


With You

by MissEmmanuelle



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cousin Incest, Erection, F/M, Family Reunions, Forehead Kisses, Forehead press, Ghosts, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pseudo-Incest, Sex Dream, Slow Burn, Stroking, Wet Dream, Winterfell, cousin marriage, crypts, daydream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-08-30 19:44:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8546686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissEmmanuelle/pseuds/MissEmmanuelle
Summary: A long awaited reunion but short lived. Jon comes to terms. Sansa makes a decision. Winter is indeed already here. That means time is. Running. Out.





	1. Crown

**Author's Note:**

> Slow burn novel. I ship Jonsa and it's the one and only ship I am on board with. Ever since the books and the show, it is indeed Jonsa forever. Story begins as an imagined continuation from the very last moments of the finale episode of S6 and it progresses from there. I can't possibly remember all detail so i read from the books and from watching the show so if I do get some details wrong pls be kind.  
> Will get quite explicit, taking the lead from the flavour and content of the show so beware. Some slight triggers here pls heed the warnings (pet deaths, animal euthanasia, abuse, Mother issues etc)  
> This is MY version of how I want S7 to be, so, if you're ready fellow Jonsa shippers, come sail and dream with me...

One look that spoke a thousand words. That look that had one word spring to mind and the feeling washed over her and burned her stomach seemingly like she had swallowed acid. It was dread. Dread was the word and dread was the feeling. It made her sick as her eyes met Littlefinger's intent stare just mere seconds after smiling back at Jon's beaming eyes to her as he nodded to the fierce gallant chants of the battle weary Knights of the Vale, joined by the men of Houses Glover, Karstark, Mormont, Cerwyn along with the wildlings as they called out to their new King in the North. Littlefinger had been staring at her the whole time. He didn't look away when her eyes drifted to his. The dread in her made her stomach twist and turn involuntarily. Sansa winced and laced her fingers atop her stomach in an effort to calm herself down.

'Please, I need peace,' she pleaded with her body. How do you prepare for dread and what's to come? If only she knew what was coming and how to prepare for it. Knowing Littlefinger's cunningly devious mind, there was no telling what he was going to do, who he will use to execute those plans. And for some reason, she had a sense that Jon was already a target.

'Oh Jon,' she thought as her sense of dread instantly turned into a heightened sense of fear. She had enough of a recent experience to warrant those fears.

"Aye.. My Lords, I hear you and your kind words humble me greatly, but we have to stand together and fight the storm, as your King... or not... Alliances have to be made, the North can't do this alone," Jon's solemn voice slowly rising over the quickly hushed chants and snapped Sansa out of her thoughts.

'Perhaps whoever these White Walkers are, that Jon had told her about, they would find Littlefinger first so I won't have to deal with him,' she thought ruefully. 

"What of these alliances you speak of... Your Grace?" Davos questioned curiously, a little unsure on addressing this new king, after quietly listening for some time. Sansa realised that she hadn't heard him speak ever since she left Ramsay - in the hounds' kennel to die ripped to shreds by his own dogs. She was preoccupied with the vital act of execution that needed to be done. It was in her hands and she wanted it. Seeing Ramsay's blood being spilled did not perturb her one bit. She wanted to watch, to make sure that this monster of a man was surely dead and nothing of him was left. It was messy and dirty but she did not flinch when flecks of blood fell on her cloak.

'I will make a new cloak,' she mused defiantly, her stare unblinking. 

She had the dogs put down, though it tugged at her heart and hesitated as she ordered one of the wildlings to do what she couldn't and saw the long rusty dagger he pulled out to do the deed. She left the kennel quickly not wanting to hear the dogs yelp or whine, it reminded her of Lady and her own childish mistake quite sometime ago. 

'When can I have some peace of mind,' she thought, bad memories were taking up space in her mind constantly of late. She had decided that not even the hounds' excrement made up of Ramsay's body parts were allowed to stain any part of her beloved home of Winterfell, if they lived. 

'These are not dogs, they are monsters Ramsay had bred. Those dogs have acquired taste for human flesh, putting them down would be best. Nothing of House Bolton shall remain,' she thought. Not even the dogs. There was no place for monsters in Winterfell. 

'Not anymore,' she told herself assuredly.

"We shall speak again soon, my Lords and I will send word to you soon enough. Now let us rest in our victory, eat what you want, drink and live another day. Return home to your children and your wives. Tomorrow we will see the sun rise again as winter comes," Jon skillfully and eloquently diverted away from Davos' question, and Sansa watched him glance down with slight smile as he addressed the men who were getting slightly boisterous and loud cheering in agreement and approval. Perhaps it was all Jon needed for now. He knew what was coming and the death that was coming with it. He was not ready to address questions he had no answers to, nor make promises he cannot keep. 

'He has such long hair now,' Sansa noticed as her eyes kept on Jon. As if on cue, Jon turned to her as he sat down slowly, heaving a loud exhausted sigh. His gaze then shifted and paused on the great feast table in front of him, not blinking as if deep in thought.

Sansa looked around her, the noise was getting slightly unbearable and she could feel her heart pounding in her head. Sansa's eyes met with Davos as he absentmindedly picked at his food whilst glancing over at Jon and Sansa once every few moments, his brows knitted in concern. 

'Air, I need air,' she thought, looking up at the windows that lined the sides of the hall. As she made a move to stand up, as delicately as possible so that she wouldn't be noticed, she felt a hand come down on her arm to stop her. She almost flinched and jumped. It was Jon but his eyes weren't on her as he spoke.

"Sansa, Rickon... I saw him and he ran.. To me.. I tried to -" Jon stuttered nervously, his grip on her arm getting tighter as he tried to come to terms with Rickon's death and express his grief and regret to Sansa. Sansa was aware of what Jon was going to say.

" Jon... He killed our brother. He killed Shaggydog and he took Rickon. It... It wasn't you," Sansa finished the sentence for him to console him although it sounded more like pleading to let her go and leave the great hall. Jon's hand was still on her albeit a gentle hold now, eyes looking down, so sorrowful and downcast so much so that Sansa wanted to wrap her arms around him but she could not find the strength to, the room was almost spinning and her head felt light. She sat back down again and looked at Jon, waiting for him to continue.

"You told me and I didn't listen and we lost him. I'm sorry. I want to protect all of you," Jon said quietly, head still down, his voice wavering slightly as he tried not to break in tears and ruin the victory feast for the knights, squires and wild folk all surrounding him. The Northern houses have a right to be joyous that day. It was a reunion of sorts. He is now the King in the North after all. They declared it so.

'Don't kings have tears too,' he pondered, slightly distracted by his own admission. He opened his eyes and looked up when he felt a smaller warm hand palm his cheek that woke him from his two seconds of mental limbo. Carelessly, he covered the hand with his, not realising who was watching from afar. 

Jon couldn't look at Sansa, not after what happened the day before and recalled painfully that night at the small council, what she had asked him not to do but he did it anyway, in reckless abandon that led his men into the lion's den. If only he'd listen and understood what she had meant and had he waited for Rickon to run to him instead, there would still be an heir to Winterfell. His bastard blood was as good as dust and dirt hiding under the blanket of snowy ground of his most favourite place in the world. Home. There must always be a Stark at Winterfell. He had heard someone said that before, once, a long time ago. Sansa was right, this was their home, they would be safe here. 

"Jon... Look at me. You're the Lord of Winterfell now. You are the last son of Lord Eddard Stark. Without you, there isn't anyone else. I'm here. Right here, with you," Sansa's gentle melodious encouragement filled his ears and his heart swelled with appreciation.

He had never known Sansa to be affectionate or endearing. In fact, he realised he hadn't known Sansa at all ever since leaving Winterfell. They weren't always around each other growing up. He knew when and where he was wanted well enough, a bastard boy born roaming and frolicking around the royal grounds of Winterfell along with the Stark brood mostly except for Sansa, happily as if he were just like them. Indeed he was treated like one of them, educated like them, fed like them but when it came to the powers that be, he was always the thorn on Catelyn Stark's side. Her sneers and scornful looks had hurt him sometimes but Ol Nan used to tell him, Lady Stark looking after 5 children was a weary job, and Jon always gave Lady Stark that benefit of a doubt that deep down she really did care about him. Otherwise, he should have been dead or sent away by his third name day. 

Bastards don't amount to much, he was often reminded by the people around him. If it wasn't for Lord Eddard Stark, his father whom Jon aspired to be like and listened to his every word and did all that he asked, Jon would be another worthless youth with nothing to his name. Ned Stark was the father Jon was thanking the gods that he had been given to. One day, he told himself, I shall be the Lord of Winterfell and look after and protect all that was living in it. And now, here he was, King in the North. Sometimes, you do get what you wish for, he mused.

He wondered what Arya would say if she was here now. With him, it was always Arya chasing him or following him around helping to carry swords or arrows or brushing the horses. Sansa was always behind closed doors, doing all that a high born, noble princess was meant to do. He was only three or four then but he remembered audibly clear as day when Sansa was born, the bells in the towers of Winterfell rang throughout and was perhaps heard as far as The Neck. There was a feast in the North that lasted three days with music and dancing. A baby girl with fiery red Tully hair and blue eyes was born in House Stark, Jon had heard one of the kitchen help shout in glee.

In that memory, Jon's eyes drifted to the shiny red locks that brushed his cloak ever so slightly and smiled. " Thank you, Sansa." That was all he could manage and let Sansa stand and watch her move away discreetly to take her leave. He stroked the part of his cheek where Sansa left her hand, and for some reason he felt warm and tingly all over.


	2. Cloak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long awaited reunion but short lived. Jon comes to terms. Sansa makes a decision. Winter is indeed already here. That means time is. Running. Out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might sound bizarre but the story finally revealed itself to me finally after some fussing about so I hope I can keep up with it. Still a slow burn tho so if you're looking for hot action, will have to wait a bit. The spark is already there ;) and that will soon start a bonfire (of smut)!  
> I loved sassy Sansa in S6 so will keep her around as much as this part of her character allows haha  
> Thanks so much for the comments and Kudos!  
> Jonsa for life! xx

Chapter 2: Cloak

"My Lady, Lord Baelish wishes to have a word with you," the voice of Brienne of Tarth booms through, bringing Sansa back to her chambers. She had drifted away, gazing at the crackling fire for quite some time now.  
"Lady Sansa.. If you do not wish to see him I will send him away.. But he insists, my Lady," Brienne continued, sensing Sansa's hesitance, ever thoughtful and honourable. She towered over the door, guarding it as if already giving Sansa her answer to Littlefinger. Sansa sighed and nodded to Brienne to let Littlefinger in. 

Brienne opened the door and in a typical fashion, Petyr Baelish slid in without as much as a single sound. Sansa turned to Brienne who was intently looking at her and Littlefinger awaiting further instruction but Sansa noticed her hand was resting atop the hilt of her blade.  
"Brienne, I'd like to inspect the grounds today, please let everyone know," Sansa finally said and Littlefinger turned to Brienne giving his approval. Now it was the lady knight's turn to hesitate but Brienne knew better than to object and nodded, opened the door and left. This was Winterfell, now held up by wildlings and men from the Northern houses. And Jon, her brother whom Brienne heard incredible stories about his death and resurrection. There wasn't anything to fear for Sansa. Not much. 

Brienne didn't like being dismissed from her knightly duties. Especially that of leaving Lady Sansa alone with a man like Littlefinger. The only one Sansa could be alone with was Jon. If anything happened to Sansa, Baelish would certainly be a dead man. Especially in Jon's hands. Brienne was confident of that after she had seen how he battled against the murderous Ramsay. 

Brienne felt relief for House Stark even though these two only have each other. The last time she found Arya, the girl was guarded and obstinate and wished to go her own way. Brienne hoped Arya would return home soon wherever she was, now that Winterfell was back in the hands of its rightful rulers. Brienne didn't know what a fierce fighter and survivor Arya was but she had heard stories about her from her own sister herself, Sansa. She would believe they were true. She sighed sadly reflecting on her own dealings with the Starks, from Lady Catelyn and Robb, to Arya and now Sansa and Jon. She had high hopes for Jon and Sansa to return Winterfell to its former glory. If anyone could do it, it would be them. With a sudden expectation of hope, which was rare these days, Brienne was greeted by sunshine and smiled at the symbolism as she stepped out of the main tower. 

"My Lady... " Littlefinger began, his voice low and raspy. Sansa's eyes stared into his defiantly. She was getting tired of all these 'private councils' with her, ever since he came to her in the Godswoods and confiding in her his greatest desire and scheme yet. Her heart sank and her eyes began to tear slightly, when her mind came to rest on Jon and the thought of leaving him and Winterfell again to escape Littlefinger's clutches. She didn't want to. But her mind and emotions were running wild. She was exhausted. She hadn't a good night's rest in these chambers, the furs and linens reminded her of how much she missed Mother and Father. She knew it was better left for Jon. She wanted her old room back. 

"Lord Baelish, I haven't thanked you for your service to House Stark and to me. The least I can do is for you have a safe journey back to bring home your wounded with you... Please send my love to Robin, " Sansa spoke, knowing full well already the words that were at the tip of Littlefinger's tongue. 

"House Stark... And a new King ruling over Winterfell. I had hoped and wished it was the Lady of Winterfell who would preside." He didn't sound disappointed. He was patronising her. He inched closer. Sansa looked away and slid further from him. She had to keep her distance, she felt dirty and ravaged all over again just hearing him breathe. He wasn't Ramsay, he was worse. She took a deep breath and felt red hot wrath slowly creep up in her. 

"My Lord, do you think I do not have a voice right here in my own castle? If I, Lady of Winterfell, command you and your men to leave right now, what would the right answer be, Lord Baelish? Do you think Jon would stop me?" Sansa challenged him, her voice rising slowly. She watched him look down as he clasped one hand over the other resting on his belly. 

"My Lady, I am ecstatic for you and Jon. The Lords have spoken and what a sight.. Northern houses uniting and rallying around your brother. He has a bright future ahead of him, my Lady. I'm concerned about yours, my love," he said in one deliberate long breath, as if it were a line already rehearsed over and over again. His gaze was now on her. He was showing his emotions too much. It was uncharacteristic of Littlefinger. His openness was jarring. Why was he saying this to her? Did he think she would be swayed by him and his sweet nothings and dreams as if she was the naive stupid girl she was then? 

The audacity. Sansa glared at him and felt her face twitch from disgust. She didn't feel like being ladylike and wanted to spit at Littlefinger right there and then. 

"My future is now right here at Winterfell. With Jon as King, he needs all the help he can get. And wherever Bran and Arya are, I will be right here for them. We're family and we belong together. There will always be a Stark at Winterfell. One way or another," Sansa affirmed her stance, this time her voice bold, sure and unwavering. 

"And I hope they will return home. If they can," Petyr chimed. Typical. Ever the ray of hope. Though his brows looked furrowed with concern Sansa could hear the mocking in his voice. He needed to be put in his place in the scheme of things. Her scheme now. 

"Now that Jon is King, House Arryn will pledge allegiance to House Stark. The amends you wished to make to me for what you made me go through with Ramsay doesn't end here, Lord Baelish. Not even close." Sansa felt brave and annoyed enough to command him. It was necessary. She knew what he wanted, and how probably his mind would work. She had to be step ahead, she had the confidence now. Perhaps, apathy for him but confident nonetheless. She had power over him. Littlefinger was right after all. Knowing a man's wants and the deepest desires of his heart, would take you places. 

"My Lady, what can I d-"

"House Arryn and the knights of The Vale will come when called upon in our times of need. Anytime whenever it arises. That is my term, Lord Baelish."

She would give him no heed this time. The surge of power felt wonderful. Sansa would no longer be used to be moved around like a pawn in this game of Thrones. She was the key to the North and to her mother's ancestral home of Riverrun. Even the Vale since Robin and her were cousins. Her birthright gave her power and influence. She hadn't realise it before. She had learned a lot under duress. She was equipped now to play along like the others. If she wanted to play. She understood now what the game meant. However, the Throne didn't matter. Her home mattered above everything else. She would stay here for as long as she lived. She would be the new Old Nan of Winterfell. She wasn't interested in being anyone's wife. Ramsay had scarred her for life. 

Sensing it was not his battle to win, Littlefinger nodded and bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. 

"As it pleases, my Lady."

"If there is anything else, Lord Baelish, please make them known to Lady Brienne. I will see to it that you and your men have supplies for your journey home. Soon."

Sansa continued her challenging stare at Littlefinger whose countenance was still towards the stony chamber floor. She could see him thinking. She wondered if knowing this man's most intimate desires was good or safe to wager against her better judgement. Or if she was putting Jon in harm's way. Jon was the only family she has left. For now. She would continue to hope. He was the only one she could trust. Actually the only one she wanted to be around with. Or talk to. Or hold his hand whenever he reached out. 

"Thank you Lady Sansa.. . How thoughtful. I'm touched by your kindness. I will speak to Lady Brienne for the arrangements. I hope Robin and I will be paid a visit from the Lady of Winterfell once you and Jon have settled in," Littlefinger thanked her as only Littlefinger can, as Sansa noticed those words were forced from out of his tight lipped mouth. He bowed to take his leave and as he walked towards the heavy oak doors, turned back to her once more and Sansa saw it. Again. That desire and yearning burning bright in his eyes. It was the same look he gave her when he approached her in the Godswoods. She still had him in the palm of her hand. Perhaps it was best to keep cordial relations despite her disdain, to not raise alarms or feelings of resentment from House Arryn, especially if she wanted to keep herself and Jon safe. House Stark needed allies. Jon knew nothing on how dangerous Littlefinger could be, if provoked. Her Aunt Lysa flying through the Moon Door taught her that. And now Littlefinger's influence and guardianship over Robin was iron clad. That boy worships Littlefinger and would do whatever he said. For all that he was, Sansa couldn't deny that Lord Baelish indeed have a way with words. At that shuddering thought, Sansa tried her best and sweetly smiled back to him and watched as he went out the door. 

She closed her eyes in relief and gripped at something close to her to steady herself. Her hands and her whole being were trembling from the adrenalin from the exchange. If Jon faced battles with swords, she was facing her own with words. She heard heavy footsteps coming towards the door and waited for someone to knock on the door. He didn't.

"Sansa, I didn't see yo-" Jon's voice gently came through as he opened the door. He stopped when he saw her. 

"Sansa, what's wrong? Who's here?" Jon saw how pale her face was and looked around the chambers immediately, his right hand touching the pommel of his sword. 

"No Jon, no one is here. Just me. Littlefinger was here but I'm all right," Sansa smiled slightly as she spoke, relieved to see it was Jon. She felt her heart flutter when his worried face slowly grinned back. How long had she been standing there? 

Jon was home to her, he has always been. How could she have been so unkind to him before. She realised with guilt how much they both have been through together. However the pangs of guilt hit her, she couldn't help but feel slightly flushed when Jon stopped inspecting the chambers and his gaze finally rested on her. She dismissed it because she didn't understand where it came from but there were other pressing matters that needed a King's and a Lady's attention. 

"Brienne is waiting for you, she said you requested an inspection. I thought I would join you.. W-We waited for you but you didn't come down so I came up myself to see if you were all right.... You can't stay up here all day Sansa, " Jon explained, his voice full of concern and she even sensed a tinge of affection in the way he sounded and in the way he looked at her. Was she reading too much into it? She felt herself blush, the fire from the heat was getting to her perhaps. He opened the door and waited for Sansa to step out first.

Sansa and Jon made their way quietly out to the grounds of Winterfell where servants, stable boys, blacksmiths were all hard at work, cleaning, brushing, hammering and running around as if the battle never happened. As they walked by, they were greeted by shy smiles and nods. Winterfell was bustling and the House Stark banner was raised proudly on the ramparts and masts, flapping gently in the chilly winter wind. 

Sansa glanced over at Brienne who was ready and waiting and nodded at her to start the inspection. Jon walked beside Sansa as she made her rounds, greeted nervously with bows and curtsies by the servants as she sauntered by. She was indeed Lady of Winterfell, the North truly remembers. Sansa felt the weight of that title now that Mother was gone. Her eyes teared again and she sniffled to curb the flow.

"What did Lord Baelish want from you?" Jon asked finally, his voice cutting through the pregnant silence as they both strolled out towards the stables, with Brienne following a few steps behind. 

"He was asking how I was. That is all. Now that we're back home," Sansa didn't want to lie but she could not tell Jon about what she knows. Not just yet. He had other things on his mind. 

"I thought you said you don't trust him. Is it wise to have private meetings with him, Sansa? " Sansa sensed indignation in his tone. 

Sansa turned to face Jon as he looked at his own footsteps walking beside her. 

"I told him he would have supplies and safe passage home for him and his men when they leave Winterfell soon." 

Jon stopped in his tracks and faced her, puzzled. "Is he leaving? Well I haven't spoken to him ye-" 

"Jon, the longer he stays in Winterfell, the more vulnerable we are. I don't know what that man will be up to now that you're king and I can't stand the sight of him, what he made me do. What happened to me was his fault, even if I agreed to it. He was responsible and I trusted him. Now, I don't and you shouldn't either." Sansa couldn't hear another word. Jon was as honourable as he was brave. Poor Jon. He knew nothing about the lethal game that Kings play. All she knew was that he was brave, gentle but strong, never to back down from a fight to defend his honour or others'. Those words rang in her head again, as if someone had told her long ago. She was finding hard to remember who it was. 

Jon went silent and they both continued walking. 

A flash of shiny black caught Sansa's eye and she turned to see a majestic black horse being brushed by one of the stable boys. He was cooing to the beast to soothe it as he brushed its coat of sheen and mane. Sansa walked over and stood by quietly watching in appreciation of the black beauty. The stable boy sensed a presence behind him and immediately turned around, sheepishly greeting Sansa. Sansa smiled at the boy, who was probably Bran's age. How she missed him. 

"He's a beauty. Does he have a name?"  
Sansa politely asked the boy who was standing still as a statue. 

"Err no m'lady, not yet. I found him drinking o'er there by himself. No master came to claim him, I thought it 'twas one of Lord's Snow's from Castle Black," the boy stammered, his eyes shifting nervously between Sansa and Jon, unsure if he would be in trouble for hoarding a horse that didn't belong to him or anyone. 

"Well, a fine horse as this would certainly catch our attention and no.. he wasn't from Castle Black. Who ever his master was, we'll take good care of him till his master comes back to get him... Won't we, love?" Sansa cooed and caressed the horse's back. She would know if a horse as beautiful as this was riding with them. She would have ridden him instead. The stallion seemed fitting for a homecoming for the Lady of Winterfell. 

"Yes we will. Lady Sansa's right, I haven't seen him in Castle Black. Not part of ours coming here. But a fine horse as this won't go to waste. Look after him and get him ready, boy. I will ride him tomorrow," Jon chimed in, claiming the stallion already. 

The horse was tall and its mane thick and smooth. It looked like it had been properly cared for. It certainly didn't belong to Castle Black. No Knights came riding on it. No, it looked like it was a horse meant for someone very important. A high born. A Lord's horse. Jon hadn't seen a horse such as this since he left Winterfell, that fateful day, for the Night's Watch. This horse was out of place. Perhaps it was stolen or escaped from nearby. From one of the Northern Houses. Jon needed to know everything about the North now. As a boy, he only knew Winterfell. He had only heard stories of folklore about the other Houses in the North but more than that he wasn't interested. Oh, how things have changed. 

"Well, if you are riding then I shall join you. Have the horses ready, " Sansa chipped in, her voice perking up at the thought of the leisure activity planned for the next day. In what felt like ages ago, the last recent times she was on a horse, was to escape from danger or heading towards it. 

Jon nodded to the stable boy and turned to Sansa who was still gazing affectionately at the black stallion. Jon realised suddenly how much he had missed being with family, his real family. Seeing Sansa smile and chuckle was a breath of fresh air that warmed his soul. It was just what he needed. It might be freezing cold in Winterfell but as long Sansa was around, he wouldn't feel it much, he reckoned. Jon snapped out his stare when he caught Sansa looking at him watching her. He felt a blush coming on. These strange feelings are happening too constantly and too much around Sansa. He had to get a hold of himself. 

"It was nice to see you smile again, Sansa. And I hope you'll do often now that we're here," Jon explained quickly, half expecting Sansa to question his strange behaviour of late. It wasn't entirely true but it wasn't a lie. He himself didn't know what this was. He needed time to figure out what was going on with him and his emotions. Ever since his return to life, Jon felt different. He wasn't the Jon before. Whatever that Jon was, had died then and didn't come back with his Jon now. 

"I will. We're home and I never want to leave. I hope you won't make me," Sansa pleaded jokingly, now standing next to him and her hands suddenly looping around his elbow and held on as they walked back to the main tower. Jon definitely felt his insides twist. It wasn't painful, it was just strange. Strangely pleasant. He shook his head and chuckled, placing his free hand on hers. Jon was beginning to love whatever was between him and Sansa now. They were grown now, no longer children, no more petty outbursts and bullying him into a corner. She was a lady now, delicate, well spoken and surprisingly beautiful. He hadn't noticed her till recently. And her touch, her hands on his, made him realise he was still very much a man, still human after being brought back from nothingness that was death. There were still emotions in him he never thought he still had within him. Emotions he thought already burnt away as he lit the pyre for Ygritte. He was glad she found him alive at the Wall. 

"... So I slapped him when he stepped on Winterfell that I made of snow. Oh Jon you should have seen it, you would make it complete. Oh, I how I missed the snow," he heard Sansa's voice drifting in and out of his ears, calling his name a few times. 

He wasn't really paying attention when she was relating a story of her time at the Vale, playing in the snow and her slight altercation with Robin Arryn. Sansa went on but didn't include the part about Aunt Lysa. All he could see was her full pink lips moving delicately as she spoke and curve prettily into grins and smiles. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke while looking over towards the vast grounds that was home and then back to him. And every time she did that, he felt his insides becoming hot. It was getting warmer and warmer the more he gazed at Sansa. A few times her hand squeezed his made the butterflies flutter a storm in his stomach. Jon liked how it felt but couldn't help but feel a small twinge of dismay. Wait, was that it? That twinge felt familiar. Was it guilt? Was it wrong to feel this way? 

"Well now that winter is here, we can build snow castles, Jon," Sansa continued, oblivious to Jon's daydreaming and his far-away gaze. Jon returned to his consciousness when he felt Sansa's hand leave his arm. She walked ahead of him and entered the main tower as the stewards opened the door for the Lady. She stopped and turned to Jon and looked at him questioning with her eyes if he was coming in. Jon's eyes drifted to her lips again as she mouthed 'Jon'. 

Jon gave her his best affectionate and brotherly smile. The best he could despite the storm brewing in his insides. 

"Indeed we'll make our own castles, if that's what makes you happy, Sansa."

Sansa blushed and looked away to hide it, hoping Jon wouldn't notice. What was happening to her? She turned to walk ahead and something caught her eye. It was gone just as soon as she saw it. Around the corner of the hallway leading towards the kitchen. No, it was someone. Those eyes. They were watching her. And Jon. They were so familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have to say that the lines the characters say do have some plot lines in them if they seem ooc to you. I have reasons, I promise! The lines give me great point references to where the story will go so bear with me! xx


	3. Crypt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knock, knock. 
> 
> Who's there? 
> 
> Arya. 
> 
> Arya who? 
> 
> Arya kidding me?? I'm back bitches. 
> 
> *Haha sorry couldn't help it. This is a slightly long chapter as I wanted to kind of push the reunion along a little faster. And for Jonsa - we have contact. I repeat we have contact! Gets more touchy feely now so stay tuned. I've decided to write another one shot AU smutty fic because I'm impatient myself haha. I had the opportunity to listen to Kit and Sophie's episode commentary that was kindly posted and shared on tumblr and realised these two have chemistry even on audio. Dammmnnn... Amazing. Thanks for all the reads, comments and Kudos! 
> 
> P/s: I'll try and post an update weekly if I can. :)

Chapter 3: Crypt 

She knew these walls. Every nook and cranny, every brick as she ran her fingers past them, she knew the halls, the chambers, the secret doors. The smell of dirt mixed with the cool scent of damp snow, she inhaled it all in with every fibre of her being. It refreshed her, it also pained her with memories of a time long gone. Nothing would bring it back. But if she tried hard enough, had grit enough to shut her emotions away, perhaps there was a glimmer of hope that her last days would be spent peacefully back here, at home. 

"Lord Baelish, a raven came for you from King's Landing," a gruff yet nervous voice shook her into hiding again. She peered as hard she could towards the direction of it from where she was standing. It was dark where she was. Shiny metal caught her eye and immediately she turned back against the wall. If her eyes couldn't, her ears would. She had always had better hearing anyway. She frowned at her own assumption that she thought she was alone in the crypt. Perhaps, even her own shadow she shouldn't trust these days. 

"Be careful, Ser. Even walls have ears, " a familiar voice chided elegantly. Lord Petyr Baelish wasn't wrong. He was heard. And she was meant to hear it. 

There was a reading silence that lasted a few seconds.

"Fetch me a raven at once. And.. Don't let anyone see you." 

A swish of heavy capes, the clink of chainmail started in sync with footsteps and faded out. Whatever it was, it was decidedly important enough to interrupt his time in the crypt. Whatever he was doing there, she did not know but now she was curious. Time to come back up for air, as well. She had spent enough time underneath Winterfell. The darkness was a friend to her. Her ally. She defeated many an enemies in the darkness. She felt nervous leaving it but this was home. Darkness here wasn't her only help. 

**********

"Are you sure you want to do this, Lady Sansa?" Podrick repeated himself gently. 

"Give the horse to me before Jon comes. I saw it first. He won't say no, I promise," Sansa glanced shyly at the young squire and grinned mischievously holding onto the belt strap of the saddle that was tightened firmly on the black stallion. Podrick blushed. He never had highborn ladies look his way, let alone smile or speak to him the way Sansa did. Those pretty blue eyes so enamoured him. He wouldn't mind being her Queensguard one day if Lady Brienne believed and trusted in him enough to teach him the ropes. And he will be quite good at it too, if he might add. Lord Tyrion Lannister would agree. 

Podrick handed the reins to Sansa as she readied herself to mount the horse. She was early for the ride, that Jon had promised the day before. To say she was smitten with the black beast was to say the least, she would care for it like her own child, if she could. All it would take was to show Jon that, she had too had good horsemanship and Jon would relent. Jon had said yes to a lot of things to her lately, she realised. It would be good for him to be open and be amenable to her, she had so many crucial lessons to teach him about being King or anything on rulership. She had been around enough Kings and royalty to share her insights. She could only hope Jon would listen this time. And his first lesson would be: heed counsel from his closest advisors and family. Even if it's about a horse. 

The stallion was surprisingly meek for his size as Sansa mounted on his back. It huffed gently as if assuring Sansa that it was all right. Sansa patted him lovingly in reciprocation. 

"Well, looks like he fancies you right back," she heard Jon's chuckling voice. She turned and giggled back at him. Caught red-handed. She then remembered how handsome he looked whenever he flashed one of his rare smiles. He looked like he had heard the best joke in his entire life. His face shone as his gaze met hers. Jon couldn't stop grinning, amused at Sansa's antics. And there it was. Warmth filled his heart and this time filled his whole body, from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. Jon conceded and relented. How could he not, watching Sansa sit majestically on the stallion, against the bright light of early morning. It was like a painting. Podrick smiled at the loving exchange between the two siblings. They looked so happy all the time when they were together. For a moment, Podrick wished he had family around too. Jon nodded at him in greeting and Podrick signaled for another horse to be ready for the King. A large silver maned mare came trotting by and she stood as resplendent side by side with the black horse. 

"We should name him," Jon suggested as he mounted his horse and patted it. Sansa smiled in approval and tugged at the reins gently to nudge her horse moving. Jon followed as his horse trotted next to hers. It was a beautiful day to be out despite the chilly winter breeze. The air was crisp but icy and Sansa took a deep breath, believing that its essence would cleanse her mind and soul. She closed her eyes for a moment in mindfulness but didn't notice Jon taking that opportunity to stare at her. She felt someone's eyes on her but she didn't care. She felt secure and safe. This morning ride was absolutely necessary. 

"Do you know where Father used to take us riding with him?" Jon suddenly said that had Sansa open her eyes. She followed Jon's stare which fell upon large domed hills of green with patches of snow on them. It was breathtaking. She missed this so much, it brought a tear to her eye. She never thought about what she had back then, all this pristine nature surrounding Winterfell was hers, only thought about what she wanted. To leave this. All this. And for who, for what? How foolish, how stupid. No more. 

Jon was silent for a few moments, in awe of the memories that suddenly assaulted him as he stood before these hills. He had witnessed Ned Stark punish a deserter of the Night's Watch. It was Bran's first experience of an execution. The words came flooding to him again, repeatedly as they drifted in and out - "The White Walkers! The White Walkers!" the panic stricken scrawny young man lain bent over with his head on the block of a thousand year old stump of oak. Jon felt a chill all over him and shuddered. He knew what those White Walkers were now. And Jon had a feeling that Ned Stark had known all along as well. Winter was coming like he often promised, but he didn't tell about the dread that it came with. It was Jon's turn to close his eyes in an attempt to shut out the looming threat and danger that was imminent. His temples throbbed angrily and he felt sick to his stomach. The Others were worse than Ramsay Bolton. Ramsay was just a sadistic bag of blood, flesh and bones. 

Jon didn't realise that he was slowly leaning precariously away from his horse. His horse sensed something was not right and neighed in alarm. Sansa immediately turned back to Jon and saw from his pale visage and tightly shut eyes that something was not right. 

"Jon! Jon! Are you all right? Jon!" Sansa almost screamed as she had her horse leap to him, its legs long enough to reach Jon in just one stride. 

Jon's eyes fluttered open and caught Sansa circling him. He gripped his reins to regain his balance which was slipping away. Sansa's worried face searched his as he awoke from his stupor. 

"I... I couldn't forget about Father," Jon lied, his eyes averting away from Sansa's and turned his attention to his fingers fiddling with the leather reins. Sansa's lips started to quiver as she felt a lump in her throat. She knew what Jon felt. It was just them against the world. The loneliness had started to sink in, whilst standing in the vast snowy plains. The irony was not lost on her. It truly was just her and Jon, everywhere they went. And if Arya should come back, and Bran too, it would be just the four of them against everyone else. Right now, she needed Jon and Jon needed her. She would do anything to comfort him, in any way possible. Her heart went out to him. She wanted to reach out to Jon. For some reason, all she wanted to do was perhaps try to comfort him physically - touching him, hugging him, sitting close to him, she would even pepper his head of curls with kisses if it would calm him. She never felt so overjoyed and relieved when she set her eyes upon him for the first time in years, when she came knocking at The Wall. His arms flung open to embrace her as she couldn't help herself and leaped onto him. His scruffy beard, his warmth felt so delightful on her face, she remembered. She swallowed hard. She felt guilty for wanting to feel that again. 

"Jon, we should head back. It's too soon.... and it's too much..... " Sansa drifted off, finding it hard to find the words to continue. All she could muster was tugging at her horse to turn around and head back to the castle. Jon silently turned around and followed closely behind. It was all too much for him and her now as the only living son and daughter of Winterfell. 

As the gates opened, Jon and Sansa were greeted by Ser Davis and Lady Brienne standing solemnly, watching them enter and dismount. 

Jon looked at Ser Davis, his face in a frown and his eyes were waiting to have a word with him. It seemed urgent. His tight lipped half smile said it all. There was trouble in the camp. Lady Brienne approached Sansa. 

"Did you both have a good ride, my lady?" Brienne asked politely, breaking the tension in the air, as she handed over Sansa's horse to Podrick."It was too cold, maybe wasn't a good idea so we decided to head back." Sansa's voice was weary and worried. Sansa looked at Jon, sensing his apprehension, then to Davos and Brienne. 

"What is it, Ser Davos?" Jon wasn't keen on the answer. 

"Perhaps best if we took a walk, Your Grace," Davos answered without answering the question. Jon knew what that meant. He had wanted no other ears other than Jon's. 

Jon nodded and Davos started beside him. 

"There's... There's no other way to say it so here goes ... There has been talk, Your Grace, that you have been carrying out executions in secret," Davos finally released the torrent of information in stammers. Jon stopped and grabbed at Davos' arm in disbelief. 

"I beg your pardon? That is untrue... Why would I.. Who is responsible for these lies? " Jon demanded to know. Jon hadn't ordered any executions on anyone ever since the battle. Why would he, he needed as many able bodied men to train and fight against the Others. Those who rallied for him, calling out to their King in the North, were men he recognised and would gladly fight alongside with. All Northern blood, all who knew Lord Eddard Stark and all loyal to the cause. As far he knew, the Wildlings had already taken care of the remaining Bolton invaders squatting in Winterfell. He didn't need the details but he was sure of that none of House Bolton was alive. The House was gone. He did not order any executions on anyone nor did any himself in secret. It wasn't the Stark way. Davos looked around him suspiciously and leaned closer towards Jon as he spoke. 

"The Karstarks you had imprisoned. Some of them are missing, my lord. Not accounted for. The keeper saw them yesterday but didn't see them this morning."

"You mean, they escaped?"

"Blood was in their cells, Your Grace. There were.... Fingers everywhere. Their bodies are nowhere to be found."

Jon felt a sick twist in his insides. He had no intention of hurting his prisoners. He was going to show mercy and give them the ultimatum. An offer they can't refuse. Pledge their house to House Stark or a beheading. He would do it himself as he had sliced off Janos Slynt's bald head, for their treasonous ways. Jon wasn't keen, however; he needed as many able fighting men as he could acquire to fight against the Night King and his armies. He would persuade them to align with the rest of the Northern houses. 

"I did not order any execution of prisoners, Ser Davos. In secret is not how we do things in House Stark, my Lord."

"There's the other thing... Your Grace. It gets worse. Rumour has it that you disrespected them. Dishonoured them. There are people here who aren't very happy with you," Davos added as if trying to unload onto Jon the burden of keeping in such vitriolic information.

"What is it now, that I'm a bastard? And don't deserve to be King?" Jon interrupted and glared at Davos, his anger coming to a head. He didn't mean to raise his voice at the old man, he was sick and tired of having repeatedly told all his life he was Ned's bastard and how he didn't deserve any respect. 

"Well, Your Grace, they are spreading the lies that they heard it from you themselves that you did not want to be King," Davos explained and questioned Jon with his eyes. 

"That you said it didn't matter enough to you."

"Aye, those words did come from me. My Lord, the war we will be fighting isn't with the living. They don't care if you're a King or a pauper. We're all the same to them. Meat for their army. I'm Lord Commander and in here I will always be Lord Commander, " Jon uttered with gritted teeth and thumped his fist onto his chest. These men had no idea what was coming and what nerve they had, stirring up the hornets' nest. They did not raise their swords and slay the enemies themselves. Jon did that for them. What ingratitude. The only time they raised their swords was to honour Jon as the new King in the North and chant his name. Easy enough. Admittedly he was touched and overwhelmed by the support, but what he really needed was the North together as one to fight against the ultimate battle. Titles were of no importance if one was facing death. Jon knew that personally. He would gladly give the ruling of Winterfell over to Sansa. Winterfell belonged to his sister Sansa until she hands it over willingly. Jon didn't even want to think about Sansa leaving again. 

"I pledged my life to the Night's Watch and I was there at Hardhome with my brothers. I saw what they did, I saw what they were. We fought together but we lost. And then my brothers killed me.... you know that well, my Lord. I didn't ask to brought back and yet I'm here. You tell me if being a King would make a difference, if I would die any less, my Lord," Jon continued exasperated and just exhausted. All Davos could answer with was his head looking to the ground as if in thought. Jon knew he had his point. But it was a nightmare after nightmare. The cold sweats that soaked his sheets when he woke up in the dead of night. He had enough. He just wanted to destroy the White Walkers, that was his only mission. Probably the only reason why he was brought back, that was his purpose and he believed in it. He didn't ask to be King. And the Throne. Whoever sat on it could have it for themselves. Jon was keen for the North to secede and rule independently. Sansa would make a fine Queen in the North. The King in the North and the Queen in the North. His Queen. Jon felt strange that naming Sansa as his Queen didn't sound out of place to him. She belonged right there with him. Jon decided then that the North should rally behind their Queen, the true born daughter of Ned Stark, if they truly thought he wasn't up for the task. He would make an announcement soon, perhaps that would appeal to them. Fighting for a lady's honour, especially a lady like Sansa, would perhaps summon the protective chivalry of these burly surly men. 

"Just be careful, Your Grace. You have many men who love you and are loyal to you but you have just as many who despise you. Your victory was not without a price, Your Grace. Stannis... He was a good king. A strong king who cared but he was not loved by his people. I knew the man, I loved him like a brother, Your Grace but he was steadfast and stubborn," Davos advised in a sombre tone. He cared for Jon. Jon was like a son to him. He had no heart to see the young man fall again. Once was one time too many. Davos swore to himself that he would look after and fight for this broody young King to his dying day, whatever it took. 

Jon looked away, he understood what Davos meant. The old man was rooting for him. He trusted Davos. A father figure was good to have around. 

"Aye. I will bear that in mind, my Lord. Thank you. I will look into it, those men that went missing," Jon finally said, ending the conversation. Davos bowed and gave his half smile and went his way. As Jon watched him go, he noticed Sansa was staring at him. She was observing the fervent exchange between him and Davos. Her eyes were on his for a few long moments, seemingly waiting for Jon to walk over and explain to her what just happened. Noticing he wasn't moving from where he was, Sansa broke the eye contact and headed to the tower. Jon sighed, he would need to speak with her this evening about his plan. He wanted to tell her everything. All these nightmares and confusion were too much to withstand alone. He needed her to tell him that everything was going to be all right. He needed her to squeeze his hands in assurance. He wanted her to hold him as he held her the first time she appeared at the Wall with Brienne and Podrick, damaged and broken. He wanted her warmth enveloping him, holding him tight. He wanted her breath on him, her lips on him.... 

Jon stopped himself, of the thoughts that were racing in his head with visions of Sansa. Sansa's lips, her face, her fiery red hair. And her hips. Her waist that curved into them. But especially those eyes that whenever he looked into them, made him weak. He was horrified when he suddenly realised a thickness growing in his breeches. No, it couldn't be. It wasn't what he meant. He didn't mean to think that way of Sansa. His emotions were getting out of hand. There were the blushes. Next came the fiery butterflies in his stomach. Now, his flesh was clawing at the thoughts of his sister Sansa. He stomped off angrily, chastised himself for such impurity. He had a moral compass. He was no Lannister. 

It was dusk when the last light of day left and blanketed Winterfell in starry darkness. The sky sparkled and bathed in dark blue and violet. The night air was prickling his skin as he looked out of the open window. He looked around the chambers. It was in a disarray and though there was just a unkempt bed and a table, Jon couldn't help but see the space filled with a crackling fire in the fireplace, swords, real and wooden in the corner, large feather beds with furs lining it, the woven brown leather tunics and the iron armors with the direwolf sigil emblazoned on it. And Robb's hearty laugh. Jon was in Robb's chambers. He had wanted to come here for a long while now, but never found the courage to step in. It was his too. 

Jon loved Robb, he was the brother all boys wished they had. Jon wanted to be like Robb. No matter how much he wanted to hate him, Robb was his only friend growing up before the other Stark children came along. They played in the mud together, ate together and in the summer, bathed in the river together.  
They were inseparable every day, every waking moment unless Lady Catelyn summoned her son to her to prevent Jon from having too much fun with her precious firstborn, her heir to Winterfell. Which happened often. Her eyes would glare at him, then reprimanding Robb for all the things he was doing with Jon. All Robb could do was nod and contemplate sadly at Jon. What often followed after was Jon being sent to the stables and the barn, cleaning the horses and feeding the pigs and eating his meals with the servants. Jon never had a seat with the family during important occasions. Lady Catelyn made sure he was invisible to whomever was visiting the Starks, Lords or not. So bound by family, duty and honour that he was shunned every time Lady Catelyn organised ceremonies attended by guests and family. He wasn't family to her. He was shame in the flesh. His saving grace was having Ned Stark often coming by the barn or the kitchen to find Jon and checking on him during those trying times. 

Jon had to lean on the table when he felt the emotions of those memories surface. His body was heaving and wracked with sobs. He had feared coming home, not because there was a chance he would die in battle, but fear of facing the ghosts of Winterfell. Robb's chambers haunted him and ever since he helped Sansa reclaim their home, he had avoided walking past it, choosing instead to sleep in the guest chambers next to the Lord's chambers which he had given to Sansa. Jon heard footsteps and quickly wiped his eyes and nose against his glove and pulled himself together. He didn't notice he had left the door ajar. 

The footsteps became slower as it came to a halt. The door slowly creaked as it opened wider. 

"Who's here?" a sweet familiar voice spoke. An even sweeter familiar fragrance wafted in. Sansa had cleaned up after their morning encounter. 

"Oh... It's you.." Sansa said softly. She realised she was interrupting a moment for Jon. He turned behind to her and smiled. Sansa's face changed when she saw that Jon had been crying. There were no tears, perhaps he had wiped them away but she knew a crying face well and the air was thick with intense emotions. Jon faced back towards the window as Sansa slowly made her way to him. 

"I miss them too, Jon. I walk past here every night before I go to bed. And sometimes, I lay on Arya's bed. I just haven't had the courage to step into Robb's..." Sansa's voice drifted off as she looked around her. 

Jon couldn't say a word. He was too overcome with emotions to speak. Sansa too was engulfed in sadness to say anything else. She needed to be held. Sansa sobbed and suddenly grabbed Jon and enveloped him in a tight embrace. He was surprised into silence but his tears flowed again, this time even harder. His face burrowed into the crook of her neck, his tears wetting the collar of her dress. Sansa hushed him and caressed his face, wiping the tears away. She stifled a sob and Jon felt her hands wiping her own tears. He was right. It was all he needed. A life giving, heart warming hug from the only family he has now. Sansa was warm and lovely, any tension that was present in the morning had long disappeared. Jon wanted to be held forever. He closed his eyes and bowed his head further. He could melt into her arms, as he felt her pulse gently throbbing steadily against his cheek. Her scent was heady and hypnotising. He felt serenaded by her touch and sweet hushes. His eyes suddenly flew open as he felt Sansa's lips pecking on the side of his head and his hair. Her lips were small and soft and the kisses were slow and delicate, as if calming him. Her fingers ran softly through his curls as her lips did their bidding and Jon was stunned into serenity. Her kisses were akin to a tranquilliser but he can't help but feel pleasure from the bold show of affection from Sansa. He slowly turned up to her for a quick desperate second, the thought of returning her kisses was incredibly urgent but paused when his gaze was greeted by a teary eyed Sansa whose hands slowly wandered down to hold him by his waist and hands. Jon's body tensed up, wondering what was a going to happen. Jon's thoughts raced and hoped wildly for where her hands would finally rest on. There wasn't an ounce of guilt that accompanied that image. Jon was so tempted to make those luscious lips wet with his but his inner conscience vehemently stopped him from it, knowing the repercussions. 

He wanted to show his affection too, it was too overwhelming of a moment for him. Alas Jon gave her warm forehead a long kiss. She was still holding him and his arms on her didn't move either. Their sobbing slowly gave way to a comfortable silence. 

"I found a name for the horse," Sansa suddenly said, laughing as she said it. Her head was leaning on his. Jon couldn't help it but chuckle despite his tears. Her body shook with silent giggles. It was so close to Jon, he felt it. 

"You thought about it all day? The name for your horse?" Jon teased, his voice broken but almost laughing. He appreciated Sansa for changing the subject. He was beginning to feel that rising sensation in his lower body regions again. 

Sansa laughed, her smile widening from ear to ear. She nodded and laughed again at the awkward turn of the conversation topic. 

"No but it came to me. I'll call him Titan."

"Aye, he's a big one that is true. That's a fitting name. Titan it is. "

Jon and Sansa held each other as they both looked out of the window that was a few paces away. If anyone came walking past the room, one would think it was Ned and Catelyn Stark standing in their child's chambers. With their matching furs, her Tully red locks, against his dark brown, holding each other intimately. 

And that was who she thought she had seen. 

*********

It was satisfying seeing Walder Frey's bony throat sliced through using his own son's blade. His body struggled violently. There was blood everywhere but she was careful so none would get on her boots. She reminded herself, no more blood spurts, and had to find another way to immobilise and annihilate. Eventually she would become good at it. But for now, House Frey was gone. The disgusting Freys and their even more repugnant descendants were wiped off from this earth. She had avenged Robb and her mother Lady Catelyn Stark, whose assassination was watched gleefully by Walder Frey. He deserved the same. Her list was getting shorter. She felt a perverted sense of accomplishment. But she could live with that, if it meant ridding the world of scum like the Freys. She had done what was needed and had enough of the dilapidated run down castle. Nobody bothered to look after anything or anyone. Neglected was to say the least. Arya took her chance when she caught sight of a horse that perhaps seemed strong enough to withstand the ride to Winterfell. A friendly yet rather large stallion that Arya guessed had been taken away from one of the guests Walder Frey had imprisoned for whatever treasonous reason. She would ride for home before it was too late. 

Tales of the battle between Jon Snow and Ramsay Bolton spread like wildfire and it had become the talk of the town. Arya had wanted to see for herself. She congratulated and celebrated with Jon in spirit and was exhilarated to hear news of Sansa returning to Winterfell bringing with her the Knights of the Vale who helped destroyed House Bolton. Arya couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride. The Starks were back in Winterfell. There was no need to bring down Roose Bolton and family herself. Good ol' Jon triumphed over it like the champion he always was. Arya had always thought of her brother as her champion, her best friend and her protector. And he proved it. Now all Arya wished for was see Jon and Sansa back home.

It took her a day and a half's ride back to Winterfell, from the small town she took refuge in. Arya was horrified at the unsightly bodies that peppered the field when she arrived. She recognised her own banner in the wet dirt. Men were tasked to clear up the field littered with the dead. They didn't appear to be from any Northern houses at all. No banners, no armour, yet wielding impressive swords and weapons. Who were they and why were they in Winterfell? Would they be a threat to her? She would find out soon enough. For now she needed to be as inconspicuous as possible. She slid off her horse, and held onto the reins and walked with it towards the gates of Winterfell Castle. She was paid little attention as the men laboured to place the dead on carts, possibly to be burned. They worked at a feverish pace to complete the unenviable task as quickly as possible and didn't blink as Arya walked past them under a ragged hooded cape and a crooked gait. They must think she was one of the wounded, making back to safety. After all she seemed to have the right clothes on, styled in the Northern way. She almost cried when her feet stepped past the heavy gates of her home ground. But she couldn't and had to keep her emotions under control. Best if she left the horse under the care of the stable hands. She had decided that she would be here for a while. But now she had to find cover. 

It wasn't long before Arya managed to blend in. Arya desperately wanted to call out to Sansa one day while she had her inspection with Jon but she kept her head low and lips shut. Sansa had almost caught her staring when she followed them to the tower but Arya knew the castle well enough to hide in its shadows. It was a close call. She would reunite with them soon. But not now, as she had her own mission and involving people she loved would be deadly. For her and them. She toughened herself and chucked her emotions away. The crypts would be her best hiding place for now. She would still be around family, and around Father. Resting next to her father's tomb would be enough to pull her through the day. Arya decided to make sure she would often see Sansa and Jon and watch them from a distance. That would be the closest she would get to her brother and sister. 

It made her spirit jump with joy to watch them together every time and that was enough. As long as they were alive and safe and as long as she was too, and ready, she will have her own homecoming. No more hiding. She would appear to her family from the cold foggy wintery midst. She would sleep in her own chambers, her own feather bed. She dreamt of sparring with Jon with Needle and he would see how good she had become wielding it. For now, she would be the dark deadly monster in the dark to avenge her family and kill those on her her list. Nothing Jon should know about because he would stop her. 

The Karstark scums were heavy, she needed a few hours lugging their filthy bodies out of the cell. How easy it was for a young plain maid servant to get their undivided attention with some measly gruel and a promise of a carnal rendez-vous. Their hands tried to grab at her chest and it was all it took to lure them into her lair. The keeper was laying quietly with his head on the table, after Arya had offered him a drink from the kitchen. The small dose of Milk of the Poppy was enough for him to lay waste from night to morning. The men had thought she was there to release them. Well, they were partly right but not for their freedom. She was on a mission. They were her mission. Traitors to her family were filthy scum and should be thrown like garbage or burnt. But Arya thought even that was too good for them. 

As she took the large blade she had stolen from the kitchen and sharpened, Arya Stark began slicing and chopping at the joints. She was experienced now not to slice through the arteries that would spurt anymore blood on her. She hadn't intended to leave a mess in their cells but those idiots struggled and tried to fend off her blade with their hands. Stupid men. That's how you get your fingers sliced off. Arya slapped the bloated face of the dead Karstark. She would throw them to the wild animals who needed food, she would hide the scrumptious bits in the woods for them to find and devour. Let these scums become excrement of beasts. That was a fitting punishment. 

It took her nearly till dusk to finish off the other one and Arya dragged both bodies, much lighter now, to the deep pit that she happened to chance upon, whilst riding towards Winterfell, taking the unbeaten path. Perhaps it was a used trap, to trap prey, beasts or humans. But the unbeaten path was the one only she would know to use. Her childhood spent exploring outside her kingdom gave her a rich knowledge of the land surrounding Winterfell. She was thankful that she still had a mental map of all the secret paths in and out of Winterfell. They will serve her well now. 

Arya had no choice but to take some water from the freezing lake to wash off the blood on her before getting back home. Shivering cold but satisfied. Yes, she was home. She wasn't afraid now. 

She slid through the large crevice of the heavy stone wall that led to a small corner in the crypt. It was big enough for her to squeeze into. Winterfell was falling apart under the Boltons. Her stomach rumbled. She kicked herself for not taking food from the kitchen when she was ordered to bring the meals to the prisoners. She was going to have to come out in the open again and feed herself. She would get more food this time and a maybe basket too to store some. Arya grudgingly put on her work dress and apron and walked out of her hiding and into the hallways of Winterfell castle. She kept her head down and low as she went past the Knights walking around guarding their posts. She opened one of the heavy oak doors and sighed with relief when she was greeted by a tray with bread that was cut into half and a chunk of cheese laying bare. She made her way into the hall, pretending to look around and cleaned whatever imaginary dust that was there in order to reach the tray. She took it and held it on her hip and walked away, but remembered to clear the other cutlery and serving ware lying around. She knew that servants don't just take the food away, they take everything away, clean up messes and leave the halls and chambers spick and span. And she needed to behave like a servant. As much as she hated it, she was Arya Stark of Winterfell but this was better than being blind and begging and her stomach agreed noisily. It was already nightfall and she thanked the gods that the castle was asleep. She would move as silently as possible. Her bare feet made it easy to remain undetected.

It was quiet everywhere. It didn't use to be like that. There was laughter and screaming and shouting and singing. Sansa would sing and hum almost every night. It lulled Arya to sleep. Now the songs were gone. It was quiet and unfamiliar. Arya sighed as she made her way past the halls where Robb's chamber was. Many a times, she contemplated to sleep in it but Sansa had her nightly inspection that stoppped her. And it was too dangerous for Arya to jump back into her old chambers. As much as she craved for her creature comforts being back home, she knew better. Being back home was harder than she had imagined, perhaps. 

Arya walked along, her bare footsteps silent on the cold stone floor. The dress was long enough to cover her inadequate attire. She couldn't wait to have her feast of bread and cheese later. The gods knew she was celebrating perhaps. As Arya almost reached past Robb's chambers, Arya stopped dead in her tracks. She heard voices, sounded like crying and sobbing. She stopped by the door and leaned forward to look in. If anyone was defiling her beloved brother's chambers she would kill them too. Such disrespect. 

As she looked in, she saw a familiar brown fur cloak that immediately brought Father to mind, and his head was pressed against the side of a head with long red hair tied in braids clothed with a grey fur cloak. Mother had worn that cloak before. Or did she? Mother had worn her hair just like that too. Did she always had her hair braided like that? She couldn't see who these impostors were. They stood holding on to each other and whispered lovingly whilst looking out of the large window that framed the outside night sky like a perfect painting. 

Arya froze, her hands trembled and tried her best to hold on to the tray so it wouldn't clang onto the ground. She was certain she had seen the ghosts of Father and Mother. There was no doubt. In the chambers that had once been their beloved sons'. She never believed in such things but now she had to. Did she miss them so much that her eyes and mind were playing tricks on her? She needed air. Where was Jon and Sansa? Did they leave Winterfell? Father and Mother were here. Did they come back as an omen? Arya's mind was racing, cluttered with thoughts of disbelief and confusion and found herself craving again for the safety of the dark crypts. She leaped her way there as fast as her tired body could. 

She couldn't believe her own sight. Perhaps she needed to reunite with Jon and Sansa sooner than she had planned for.


	4. Chambers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah it's happening. Okay, kind of. Sorry but bear with me! Although it's a little bit sooner than I imagined but I felt it was necessary. *squeals in excitement* This chapter is strictly Jonsa. Rated M for mature content and language (I think) 
> 
> Enjoy Jonsa fans! 
> 
> Jonsa for life!

Chapter 4: Chambers 

His skin was tickled by the tinkling of her fingers over his chest. Light strokes that had a rhythm that matched his heart beat. As his hand grabbed onto the delicate digits, Jon opened his eyes and saw Sansa sitting atop his bed beside him. Clad only in her night sheath, Sansa's gaze from his chest rested on his face. Jon sat up and propped himself on his elbow, slightly puzzled as to why she was in his chambers late at night. On his bed. In her under clothes. 

Jon almost salivated at his imagination of that body underneath the linen sheath. It all felt strange to him. The lack of uneasiness, the guilt was nowhere present in that moment. It was fine that he didn't stop Sansa from touching him in an inappropriate manner. In fact it seemed to his befuddled mind that he was looking forward to this occasion, as if he and Sansa had planned for a secret rendez-vous. But, why was he? 

"We're all alone now Jon. It's you and me in this big castle. It needs looking after and I need you to help me," Sansa almost whispered, her voice low and sweet and sensual. Jon reached out for her hand he had let go of and brought it to his lips and kissed it, whilst closing his eyes. She smelled like home to him. He adored it. Jon opened his eyes and watched Sansa for a moment, feasting on her entire being with his hungry eyes. She was perfection in the flesh. That fiery red hair, the curved full lips, the blush that adorned her cheekbones and her blue eyes that contained the ocean and sky. 

"Yes Sansa. Wherever you are, wherever we go. I'll be right with you. You know that," Jon finally answered, his voice low and breathy. He had to inhale her scent deeply, as if it were his last breaths. Sansa smiled and laid down gently by his side. Jon watched her in awe as she did so. And as she did, leaned over to Jon, her beautiful face inches away from his. 

Whatever she was doing, it was wonderful and Jon couldn't help but grin. Sansa giggled as she caught Jon's grin. That girly laugh was just like Sansa. His face must have looked amusing to her. Jon was happy that he was able to make her smile. She was the one who had him smiling of late. The chuckles slowly came to a halt as Sansa and Jon finally rested their eyes on each other's. Jon could lay like this forever.

Then, Sansa leaned in and shyly kissed Jon on the lips. She giggled nervously, as if she had done something naughty. Jon eyes widened in surprise. Jon knew it was now or never. Grabbing her gently by her neck, Jon swooped in, crashing his lips on hers. Jon's tongue probed delicately into her mouth and was met by hers. A heated dance ensued in both their mouths and Jon felt the strong need to hold her, his tongue explored further as he lifted Sansa on top of him. Her long legs straddled him and her body writhed as they kissed harder and faster. Jon's body welcomed Sansa's with a growing hardness that was becoming an ache. 

Sansa didn't show signs of stopping, of kissing him or wanting to ride him. Jon's hands wandered down from her shoulders to the small of her back and finally rested on her firm buttocks. Jon groaned in her mouth as he kneaded the soft yet firm full flesh and reached out for her hand stroking his neck. He led Sansa's keen hands to his erect manhood still clothed underneath the blanket. He slept in the nude. Ever since he came back to life, sleeping naked made him feel human again and what a good decision that was, now that Sansa was his company for the night. 

Sansa paused for a breath and Jon heard her gasp lightly as she realised where her hand was. Sansa looked down for a moment at her hands and came back to his lips, even harder this time, her hand slowly pulling down the blanket to reach that forbidden fruit. Jon moaned as her warm delicate hands landed on his manhood. Jon felt like he was on fire. He hadn't dream of this, it never came to his mind but now this was the only thing he wanted. Sansa was the only one he wanted. He was sure of it. Jon's hands went wild, massaging her cheeks to caressing her hips, slowly moving down the smooth soft skin of her legs. His hands desperately wanted to touch that sacred region between her thighs, he wanted to taste her, have her on his tongue. 

"Sansa... "

" Jon... " Oh her touch as she breathed out his name felt divine! Jon knew he couldn't last for very much further as long as Sansa was stroking him. And she was getting quite good with the rhythm of it. Jon felt himself getting close. Oh, all the things he wanted to do to Sansa... 

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

"Your Grace."

Jon slowly opened his eyes. He was still clothed in his blankets. He looked around in confusion, where was Sansa? His cock was erect and painfully hard, obviously needing attention. Jon rubbed his eyes and tried to get his bearings right. He was in his own chambers, and it was dawn. How long had he been sleeping? It was surreal, he could still feel Sansa's touch on him. Jon ran a finger on his lips as he tried to recall the night before, waking up to Sansa lying next to him, caressing his chest, kissing her passionately and her hand stroking his cock. Jon moaned slightly as his hand veered to his own member and squeezed it gently, wishing it was her hand instead of his. 

It was all a dream. 

"Your Grace, the table is ready. Lady Sansa is waiting for you in the hall," the voice spoke again from behind his closed door. Jon's eyes fluttered open at the sound of Sansa's name and got up from his bed. Sansa, Sansa, Sansa. His lips whispered her name repeatedly as if it was a prayer. 

"Please tell Lady Sansa I will be right there." Jon gave his reply, knowing that if he didn't, whoever it was would likely barge in, thus witnessing him in his indecency. 

Jon washed his face with the near freezing water left in the basin from last night. He needed it. He washed his cock with some of it too, wincing at the chilly sensation. He had to calm himself down. He would take care of his needs later tonight. For now, all he wanted to do was to see Sansa. He needed a confirmation that he wasn't dreaming. That Sansa would tell him that it was her in his bed last night. A man like him could hope. A sharp pang of guilt hit his gut as he got dressed. He had dreamt of his sister, his half sister, doing unholy forbidden things with her. If there were gods, he would be sent to the pits of hell for what he dared to imagine of Sansa. If there were any gods. His memory of complete darkness while laying dead made Jon cynical that there was nothing after death. No gods, no bright lights, just blackness. Jon sniggered at the thought. Perhaps there was no hell for him then. He was already in hell, thinking about how he can't have what his heart now desired. 

The smell of burning wood in the fireplace greeted his olfactory senses as he stepped in the hall where Sansa was sitting in her chair. Jon's heart made a leap when he saw her, slightly hunched over, picking at something in her hands that Jon assumed was her sewing. It kept Sansa well occupied now. She had a cloak made for him while staying at Castle Black. It was exquisite and well made. But it was the thought behind it that made Jon's heart swell. She cared. She remembered Father like he always did. He had never thought he would feel like a Stark, he was always the bastard Jon Snow, the outcast of Winterfell, but Sansa welcomed him back that day, giving him his very own cloak like the one Father used to wear. And her words that kept ringing in his head, "You are to me" affirmed that he was indeed a Stark and that was all that mattered to her. 

Her thoughtfulness was her trademark trait. Sansa Stark had always been known as polite, proper, kind and thoughtful, a lady in every sense of the word. Jon smiled at the thought though he felt a slight ache come on again. Jon tried his best to ignore it and approached Sansa. 

"Sansa, pardon me for making you wait. Have you broken your fast yet?" Jon greeted Sansa, desperately wanting to embrace her and kiss her like he did in his dreams. Sansa looked up at him and smiled back. 

"That's all right. I wasn't hungry. Did you sleep well?" Sansa asked as she turned back to her sewing, not noticing the slight discomfort in Jon thinking of how to answer her question. 

"A-as well as I could, I suppose. Some nights keep me up but I am just thinking too much," Jon answered as honestly as he can. 

"I know, Jon. But I'm glad I'm not alone unable to sleep at night," Sansa nodded and sighed. She had her nights too and wished she had something that would help her sleep well. She was getting exhausted and sleep deprived. Sewing helped her calm down and often lulled her into drowsiness that enabled some kind of shut eye. 

Jon walked to the armchair next to Sansa and sat down facing the fireplace. He closed his eyes, the ache was growing persistent now. He had a hunger but it wasn't for food. Jon stole a glance at Sansa who was still absent mindedly picking at the seams and stitches. Jon held his glance for as long as he could, his eyes lapping up the sight of her in a dress that slightly exposed her décolletage, her slender neck, her lips, her hands and nimble fingers. He gulped. There was no escaping now. His manhood was straining against his breeches and Jon hoped with all his heart that his stiff leather tunic covered him enough. 

Sansa suddenly looked at him, as she felt his stare on her, though unaware of what was racing though his mind. She smiled again, this time recalling of their intimate moment in his and Robb's old chambers. It was a weight off her shoulders ever since after they both had cried and mourned together. It was a cathartic release for her and everytime she was with Jon, there was an undeniable peace and tranquility that she experienced being around him. Though his stares and gazes at her were somehow more frequent, however hard she tried to resist, she loved the attention she was getting from Jon. They both needed to be close. She would always cherish their moment in Robb's chambers. She desired to be as close as they could be. Sansa needed him and wished that Jon would hold her as often as he stared at her. 

How could she tell him that? He was her half brother. They still shared blood ties. Are half siblings allowed to be dangerously closer than full blood siblings can ever be? She never felt this way with Robb, who was the same age as Jon. Bran and Rickon were just her little brothers and they will always be. Her growing feelings around Jon was a mystery to her and she decided to leave it at that. A mystery. Until she found an answer to it, she would just enjoy the feelings as they came and went. 

Sansa shook off the blasphemous thought and huffed as she unpicked her sewing that went awry. Sansa almost jumped when Jon's hand was on hers. She was greeted by his kind and smiling eyes as he pointed to the food in the table. 

"I think you better eat if you're going be doing that all day. New dress? "

"Well, yes. To celebrate our new beginning." 

Jon's eyes slightly welled with tears as he heard those words. A new beginning indeed. With someone he never knew he loved and cared for so much until now, more than his own being. The thought of Sansa being captured and tortured again by Ramsay Bolton and wanting to kill herself if it did, was heartbreaking. If she died, there was no point in living by himself or be brought back again now, was it? He would do this for her, for their family, for Rickon and for Winterfell. 

The meal was eaten in comfortable silence, just between the two of them. Jon had dismissed the handmaids and squires out of the hall. He wanted his gatherings with Sansa to be as intimate and as alone as possible. And uninterrupted. He would treasure these moments with her, if they were the only ones he could ever have without transgressing any boundaries. But alas, the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. Jon shifted uncomfortably as he tried to ease the tension in his lower torso. 

"What will you be doing today?" Sansa asked as she fiddled with the small piece of hard bread in her hands.

"Don't quite know yet but I'm sure Davos has something in mind," Jon searched his mind for any pressing matters but couldn't think of any. Only because his whole mind was engrossed with Sansa, he wasn't able to focus. Perhaps, being around her a little less would get things done a bit more. The King in the North would have a lot of things on his mind and wanting to make love to his own half sister obviously must not be one of them. 

"What about you, Sansa?"

"I will stay in I suppose. It's too cold to be doing anything outside. Perhaps do some reading," Sansa shrugged. Mother always had things to do as Lady of Winterfell. Running the castle, front, back, left, right and centre was no easy feat. But Mother did it with dignity and love that all in Winterfell appreciated and respected her. Sansa frowned slightly at the thought of the duties the Lady of Winterfell had. They were hers now. 

All she could hope for was the same love and respect be given to her as did Mother. It should be a little easier for Sansa, especially not having 5 children like Mother did. Sansa suddenly felt the stab of longing in her heart, for Arya and Bran, as her mind pondered over their fates. If Jon was busy and away, the loneliness would creep up and rear its ugly head again and Sansa needed more than just being with him. 

"Well after I am done, perhaps I'll join you in the library. My friend, Sam, he would love the library," Jon chuckled at the thought of Sam but it gave way to Jon missing him. His only friend who had no clue where he was or what had happened to him. Jon shook off the sadness and told himself that Sam was well and more than able to look after himself and Gilly, wherever they were. 

Jon had remembered that Sam had wanted to take an apprenticeship as a Maester in the Citadel. Jon had signed the papers for Sam to do so. He hoped that his best friend was safe and learning the ropes well and well on his way in becoming a wizard. Jon stifled a laugh at the memory. Perhaps he would send a raven to the Citadel one day to tell Sam that he was good, alive and well. 

"That sounds lovely Jon. I do like having you around me. It makes me feel safe. I feel protected with you. Thank you," Sansa gushed, her face slightly red but gazed at Jon and waited for his response. She didn't know why she was saying all that, but she had wanted to for a long time ever since she arrived at the Wall. Normally, she wasn't so forward and honest but for some reason, Jon made her open up and want to share these feelings. Jon froze in silence. 

He couldn't find the words that would adequately convey his reply, so he stood up and kneeled in front of Sansa's chair and embraced her. Another embrace for him to hold on to and feel her body against his. Sansa held on to him as tightly as she could and squeezed the nape of his neck. For some reason, Jon felt feverish. It was maddeningly attractive to Sansa. No doubt it was a cold day and in her mind, she wondered how a naked Jon would feel against her. Sansa squeezed him harder and felt a slight heat and pressure building between her thighs. Sansa blinked her eyes open when she realised what she was doing and thinking. A slight shock ran through her. No, it can't be it, can it? Sansa reluctantly let go of her squeeze and gently released Jon. 

Both their foreheads were pressed against each other's. His face was now inches from hers and she could feel his breath on hers. She had never known Jon to be passionate and full of heart. It was obvious to her now, who the man was kneeling in front of her. Sansa was so overcome with love and affection that she kissed Jon on the cheek. Her lips almost brushed past his and she hugged him again. This time Jon returned his affection and held her as tightly as she did him. 

"I will always protect you and keep you safe, Sansa. You're mine," Jon whispered, unknowingly uttered the last two words he was thinking out loud. 

"I am yours."

Jon's eyes batted open the moment Sansa answered him. It wasn't a question, it was a private thought of his that manifested itself into two little words but defined what he felt for Sansa. He turned to look at her, his hands now cupping her cheeks. Sansa's hands held his wrists and arm, her eyes looking deeply into his in waiting. Jon didn't quite know what to do. It took him all his might to suppress the need to caress her lips with his. He did what he thought was the next best thing. 

"Can I kiss you, Sansa? Ever since, I came back, I've missed-"

Jon's words were interrupted as he felt Sansa's lips on his. Her mouth was inviting and soft. Her eyes were closed as Jon watched her press her lips on his and slowly closed his eyes and took in the breathtaking moment. As soon as Jon wanted to open his mouth to welcome hers even more, Sansa pulled back. Jon's heart sank a bit and opened his eyes. Sansa was staring at him in a daze, her eyes large and twinkling with evident desire. He wasn't the only one feeling this way, he realised. 

"I know now what had happened to you, what your brothers did to you. And I'm truly sorry. I can only hope to help you take some of that pain away, whatever I can do. We have to take care of each other, Jon. I want to take care of you." Sansa explained and looked down. The intensity of what overcame her hadn't subsided and the more she looked at him, the more she wanted to do with him. His dark brown eyes that spoke a thousand words, his gentle and handsome bearded face and his lips were all driving her mad with need. But she can't. In her mind, it was wrong on so many levels. But inside her, in her heart and soul, why did it feel so right? 

Jon couldn't care if there was an earthquake that shook the walls of Winterfell castle. He didn't want to leave that spot, that moment being King was of little consequence. He had his Lady and now that he knew that she desired him just as much, made it all the more exhilarating. How he wished they weren't related, he would have her right there and then on the feast table, his mouth on her between her legs. Jon closed his eyes for a second to allow that vision run through him. He was absolutely ready to make love to this red haired princess if she consented to it. She was his everything now. Jon finally had a purpose better than before. It was Sansa, it had always been Sansa. He just never accepted it. 

It was Sansa who pushed him to fight for Winterfell and save Rickon. It was Sansa who called on the Knights of the Vale and saved him and his men. It was Sansa who executed Ramsay and annihilated House Bolton for betraying and murdering Robb and Lady Stark. Jon realised he owed his new life to her somehow. And he would vow to pledge his life to her and her causes, whatever it took and whatever the reason. He may be called King in the North but the true ruler and warden of Winterfell was Lady Sansa. She had become the heart of Winterfell and now she had irrevocably and firmly etched herself in his. 

Jon and Sansa's hands were still on each other when a pound on the door shook them both back to reality. Jon gently ran his thumb against her cheek and smiled at Sansa lovingly before going back to sit on his chair. Nobody should witness what had transpired between Jon Snow and Sansa Stark. It was their own private moment and theirs alone. 

"Your Grace, my Lady. The council with the Northern Lords will commence at noon today. You wanted to meet with them, no? Well, it will be today, Your Grace." Ser Davos greeted Jon and Sansa as he stepped in when Jon called for him to enter. Jon had remembered the announcement he had wanted to make to the Northern Lords, to address the issues that were plaguing the North and possibly undermine Jon's plan for a Northern army to battle against the Others. 

"Aye. Noon day it is. The sooner this gets sorted the better." Jon nodded his approval. 

"Is there something going on, Jon? Sort them out? Jon, as Lady of Winterfell, I have the right to know what goes on in our castle," Sansa demanded to know, sensing she was shielded from knowing important information. Important enough for Jon to hold a council with all the Northern houses.

Jon looked at Davos and knew that he had to inform Sansa of news of what had happened to their Karstark prisoners. He turned to Sansa and tried hard to find the words while looking into her eyes that were on his. His memory of her chaste kiss was still fresh in his mind. 

"The Karstark prisoners are gone. They might have escaped or might even be killed. I'm looking into it. I hope that they weren't touched because that will give us trouble with the Karstarks. They are still our kinsmen. "

Sansa eyes widened with shock. If the Karstarks escaped and rallied against them, it would be trouble they didn't need. If they were killed, even worse. But she knew deep down that it wasn't Jon who executed them. It wasn't what Father had taught them. It had to be the work of someone else. Perhaps another Karstark released them and helped them escaped. She needed to think of a strategy and do it fast. 

Davos watched the siblings' exchange and pondered how much they looked like a King and Queen in their own castle. At least they were behaving very much like one. It was a first time for Davos to be in the company of a brother and sister King and Queen. And he figured it wasn't very different from the usual husband and wife royalty he was accustomed to. 

"Ser Davos, who do you think did it?" Sansa asked directing her attention to Davos. She knew it was best to anticipate the worst. Davos looked to Jon for approval before continuing. 

"My Lady, as of now, we do not know. It could be a member of any Northern houses. I have been well educated that the Northerners are fierce and unbending when dealing with their enemies," Davos explained, subtly referring to Sansa's own execution of Ramsay Bolton. 

"And this council is to find out and punish the one responsible?"

"Punish is a harsh word, my Lady. The North is still a little fractured at the moment and accidents like these will make it worse. We should refrain from inciting any more violence and conserve our energies for the only battle that's coming," Davos reiterated, his voice fraught with deep concern and his grey brows slowly knitted in a frown. 

Sansa turned to Jon and back to Davos. He had a point. The only strategy now was to maintain somewhat of a peace and a unity amongst the Northern Houses and her priority was to rebuild Winterfell and guard it with all she can. Jon was right. They had many enemies now. They need everyone on their side as much as possible. 

"What was the intention of the council then? Wouldn't a raven suffice?"

Jon had to be honest with Sansa. He was embarrassed at what was said of him, that he didn't want to be King. That it didn't matter much to him. In fact, his one and only dream was becoming Lord of Winterfell, unwittingly urged on by Sansa who, in a slip of the tongue, mentioned in her haste to leave the feast during that victorious evening. Those words had come from her own mouth, the Lady of Winterfell. Was it a prophecy? He hoped so. He now knew what it meant. Perhaps she had desired the same for him all this time.

"There have been talk that some of the men think I don't deserve to be King in the North." Jon paused before he continued. 

"Why did they say that? Because you're not a Stark?" Sansa chimed in softly, glancing apologetically at him. 

"Perhaps, they said they heard me say that I refused it."

Sansa was confused. She heard them loud and clear boisterously chanting to Jon as their king, and Jon's speech too that night. Perhaps she wasn't paying much attention, when she caught Littlefinger glaring at their table, with his expression that made her panic and worry. 

"What did you say to them Jon? Do you not wish to be King?"

Jon looked down and back at Sansa. How was he going to say this to her? Asking her to be his Queen ruling beside him was downright uncommon and uncomfortable especially after the light kiss they shared moments ago. The other houses would think it was uncommon too but he could try. If he didn't, he would never know. 

"I was hoping that they would come together as one and fight for us. Us as King and Queen in the North. They would rally behind a Queen's honour and protect her if they knew a Stark is by my side," Jon finally disclosed. Davos' frown became more pronounced as he heard it word for word from Jon's mouth. Yes, this was uncommon but it made sense. Jon would always be a bastard in the eyes of the Northerners and having a Stark ruling by his side would make a world of difference. Kings usually married Queens but in this case, the Starks had their own way of going around it. Besides, they were the only ones left. Davos wished and hoped in his heart that a King somewhere and somehow would legitimise the poor boy. 

Sansa had no words. Jon had proposed to her. It wasn't what she thought it was but a proposal nonetheless. Did he want her to be his Queen? Sansa tried to repeat his words in her mind again and again. But, Kings and Queens were usually married to each other, and they were half siblings. If they were cousins, like Robin Arryn was, Sansa would embrace the idea of Jon as hers.

"Granted, it would be uncommon but what we're facing now isn't ordinary. And perhaps, out of the ordinary is the way to victory, my Lady," Davos expressed his agreement and approval, speaking out loud the same thoughts he had as her. Jon was still staring nervously at Sansa. He sounded as if he was asking her to be his wife. What if she said no? That would be the closest he would get to be to her in an official title. Everywhere they went they would be addressed as King and Queen in the North. It had a lovely ring to it and Jon's heart skipped a beat envisioning his future with Sansa as his Queen. Jon gripped his arm chair rest tightly as he waited for Sansa to speak. 

 

"If that's what it takes for them to pledge their allegiances to House Stark, then I would be your Queen." Sansa rose up from her seat as she spoke to Jon, agreeing to his proposal. Davos nodded and looked to Jon for instruction. 

Jon was in a daze. Sansa had just agreed to be his other half. His significant other. They would be together now, formally in deed. Not as how he had dreamed of just the night before, but she was his all the same. Jon turned to Davos and sourced for words that were jumbled in his excited brain, to give further instruction. 

"My Lord, have the deed written and prepare for the council later today. Today would be the day we begin our march to victory."

Davos beamed at Jon and Sansa and bowed to take take his leave. 

Sansa sat back down. She turned to Jon who was facing her but his eyes were focused towards the table in front of him. 

"How long were you planning this, Jon?" Sansa asked softly, slightly overwhelmed at what had just happened. She looked at her fingers, and immediately imagined a ring on her left hand. What would a Queen wear? 

"The moment they called me as their King. I don't deserve it Sansa, you do. My place is on the battlefield, you and I know that. Besides, it doesn't matter to me if I'm King. But I know it matters to you. You saved Winterfell, you made that call. The Knights of the Vale heard you and came to you. And I want you to make the same calls when the need arises because I don't know where I'll be then. I hope the other Houses will come to their senses and make their pledges."

Jon felt the sting of tears as he said those words. He would die for House Stark and in particular a Lady Stark. She wasn't Lady Lannister or Lady Bolton. She was his Queen in the North now. That was all that mattered. 

Jon sniffed as he muffled a sob that he felt coming on. Sansa got up from her seat and held out her hand to Jon. Jon took her hand and stood up from his seat. Sansa looked at Jon intently, her hands holding his and slowly found herself getting lost in his deep brown eyes. Jon didn't know what else to do except to gaze back into her ocean blues. He was mesmerised in a second. 

Sansa then cupped his face and tilted her head slightly, leaning closer to his and delicately placed her lips on his. Jon was overjoyed beyond belief. Sansa parted her lips and Jon felt her tongue explore daintily into his and his hands wandered down to her waist to grab and lift her up onto the table. In seconds, their mouths were on fire as their tongues locked in a passionate twirl. It didn't matter to Jon that Sansa was inexperienced in her kiss, neither was Jon. 

It wasn't a dream this time. Jon could feel her and squeeze her flesh, her slender waist, he could taste her, her lips were tender and sweet and full. Jon continued his lip embrace with Sansa as his tongue went deeper and brushed against her perfect teeth. There was no stopping him now. Sansa's hands were all over his shoulders and back. He moaned quietly as he felt her breasts press against his chest. The dress she had worn was slightly thinner than the common woolen ones. Jon felt her nipples turn hard as he moved to kiss her ear lobes and neck. The move gave his cock life. It sprang harder than it had ever been since the morning. Oh how he wanted to kiss her milky breasts that had now formed a delicious tunnel of cleavage that heaved as she panted for breath. 

"Jon... Uhh... Jon.." Sansa cooed his name. It sounded so much lovelier in person and in real life than it had in his dream. Jon was inches away from caressing the full twin globes of flesh with his mouth and hands when he felt Sansa push him away. They were now lying down on the table, Jon on top of Sansa, both panting for air. 

Sansa looked like a goddess with her soft red hair splayed beautifully over the table and her chest, flushed red, peeking out from its confines of her bodice. Sansa covered her face with her hands. What was she doing with her half brother? She shook her head and knew that this was wrong. No matter how amazing it felt, it was wrong. 

She felt Jon stir around her and moved her legs that brushed against his erection. It was hard as a rock yet tender. Sansa opened her hands to look at him. He was looking down, his eyes away from hers in shame. Jon was still leaning and hovering above Sansa, panicking and hoping he would not be damned to prison by her for violating his own flesh and blood. 

Jon felt the tears coming on again. He was a monster. He isn't the Jon he was before. He would never force himself on a woman but he knew that it would take seconds for him to rip Sansa's dress to shreds and entering her, devouring her, spilling into her like any man would. It had been a while since he felt this way. But he was no other man. Jon understood why she stopped him. She felt his urgent need and his forcing his way with her with his fierce intense kisses all over her body. Jon covered his eyes in regret and hit himself in the head as hard as he could. He felt Sansa's hands on his to stop him. 

"Stop, Jon. Stop. This was..... This was an accident. I'm sorry, I started it and led you on. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Sansa apologised profusely as she got up slowly from the table. Sansa pulled on her dress to cover up her exposed self and sat back on the chair. Jon's hunched back was facing her now. She knew Jon couldn't live with what he had almost done. But it wasn't him who did it. It was her. It was her all along. He was just a very willing participant. Sansa patted Jon's back, willing him to sit down with her. Jon relented and ran his hand through his curls. Sansa didn't lift her gaze from him for one second. He was actually quite the exquisite specimen to adore and admire. Sansa ran her hand along his cheeks as he sat down and watched his face contort with panic and worry. 

"Jon, I don't know how else to show that I love you and what you have done for me. And now that I'm your Queen... I just... I just wanted to show you how much that meant to me and how touched I was." Sansa continued caressing his cheek and ran her fingers along his lips. Jon's eyes turned to her and Sansa saw the overwhelming and unconditional love in them. He felt all this for her. 

All her young life, she had never been viewed as a dear object of someone's affection, she was merely a child bearing vessel with a high born title on two legs to all she met. It was something she had never experienced before. Not from any man. There were no hidden agendas, motives or schemes that came attached with Jon's love for her. He loved her, as she was. He was willing to give up his title if it meant her sitting on a Northern throne. Sansa's heart swelled with affection and love and realised that in fact she did feel the same for Jon. It had been simmering for a while, she just hadn't noticed. She trusted him with all of her. Her life. And now, her body. 

Thinking back, while she was occupied with reclaiming Winterfell, the first person she thought of the moment she woke up was Jon, and he was the last thought before she laid down to sleep. And it always made her smile and glad that he was always around. If that wasn't love, then she wouldn't know what it was. It stung her tender heart that he was a bastard and her half brother. But her life lately had never been fair or sweet. She had accepted that and resigned to her fate. And now, the only man she could ever love was the only man she couldn't have. 

Jon still kept his silence and listened intently as Sansa spoke and savoured her fingers on his lips and face. Jon kissed her fingers as they ran over his lips. He loved her. All that they had been through together, the time they had spent bonding at the Wall, he realised they were more alike than he thought. She shared her hopes and dreams with him and they truly were one and the same with his. The more he got to know her, the more he felt they were kindred spirits. The gods were cruel in giving them lives to live as half brother and sister. He would marry her in a heartbeat if they weren't who they were now. Jon's mind imagined her with his babes and the vision was as clear as day. She was his Queen in any life, anywhere. Jon took a deep breath summoning all his remaining courage to face his beloved. 

"Sansa, I never knew it was possible and I'm ashamed of what I've done and what I'm feeling but I love you. Like a man loves his wife. Being my Queen is the closest I would ever get to have you as my partner. If there was anything I could do to change our lives now and be with you for the rest of my life, I would, Sansa, my love. I need you." Jon pleaded with Sansa. He wasn't sure why he did but it was his heart that spoke the truth.

Sansa teared and felt a drop running down her cheek. Jon gently wiped it away with his thumb and lifted her face to his, his finger on her chin. Sansa understood what that all meant. They would live their lives as King and Queen in the North in Winterfell till their dying days. She had absolutely no interest in belonging to another as she now belonged to her one true love. Jon Snow. It was bewildering how trauma and tragedy could bring two broken hearts together as one. 

Jon couldn't bear the intensity of his emotions and slowly stood up. He didn't want to leave Sansa alone but the ultimate resolution for both of them to be together was heartbreaking. His heart could not stand another moment and he needed respite and perhaps some quiet time. There were other important things that needed his attention. Sansa and him, he would deal with whatever comes, when it comes. 

"Sansa, I will be with you later when I am finished with the council but I think it would be good if you would join me. Now that you are Queen. My Queen. Let the Lords see who they truly are fighting for," Jon stood up to leave and then turned back to Sansa. He smiled at her, bowed and left the hall. 

Sansa smiled to herself at the revelation of her and Jon and her new position as Queen. It wasn't what she wanted with Jon but it was close enough. Perhaps she would appeal to the gruff Northern Lords to come around and work together with them. Sansa couldn't stop thinking about the touch and kisses that Jon left on her lips and neck, how he felt against her. The heat from his muscular body and how gentle he was with her, despite his need. Sansa wanted more and she wanted Jon to devour her like he did moments ago, over and over. 

Sansa felt a tingle between her legs as she tried hard to concentrate on her sewing. The pressure in her loins were pleasant and she was beginning to enjoy them. She sighed and continued on her sewing. She was making a new tunic for Jon, seeing how the one he had was worn out and tattered. It was her gift to him for bringing her back home. And now that he was King, he needed new clothes. The cloak she had made for him would be perfect for the new tunic she had in mind. 

Sansa couldn't stop smiling with the incredible joy she felt in her being. She hadn't felt like this in a long time. Perhaps she could give him something else in secret, only between him and her for how he had made her feel. Her love for him was overflowing and running over. And she would enjoy giving that gift too. Sansa blushed as her thoughts deviated to unsavoury territory. Oh the things she wanted to do to him. With him. All over him. 

Sansa huffed and tossed aside her sewing pins. She would continue when she was in a better frame of mind. Now, all she wanted to do was dream of Jon making love to her. His hard erection pressed against her wet slit and entering her as she kissed him fervently. Sansa closed her eyes as she imagined Jon on top of her as he was before moment ago on the table, his hands caressing her legs, his lips kissing her neck and chest, his mouth suckling on her breasts as he would mount her and thrust into her as she relished every pump of his cock until he was spent and let his seed mingle with hers. 

Sansa sighed and knew it had to be only a fantasy for she could not possibly be carrying his child. As long as he was her half brother and illegitimate, he could never put babes in her. Sansa knew the ramifications of being a bastard. She was Sansa Stark of Winterfell and she would not put her family in public shame displayed for all to see. If her passions got the better of her, whatever happened between her and Jon would be always be behind closed doors between the both of them and being careful. 

Sansa shuddered at the thought of having Jon in her chambers and in her bed. It was exciting and dangerous and arousing all at once. It was unlike Sansa. But then again, it was unlike Jon too. Sansa stood up and left for her chambers.

The great hall of Winterfell slowly became filled with Lords from the Northern Houses and Sansa was informed by Brienne that they were ready. Sansa had picked a black embroidered gown with silver piping. It had belonged to Mother that she would wear during special occasions. She felt that this was a special occasion. Her hair was braided in a half updo that accentuated her slim neck and shoulders. Perhaps Jon would notice it too, remembering how he had kissed and lapped at her neck earlier. 

As she entered, Jon was sitting at their table, talking to Lord Glover and Jon noticed Sansa in the doorway and paused his conversation. Sansa smiled at him and he nodded back. The hall was hushed into silence and the men stood up as she entered to take her place next to Jon. Jon's eyes never left her till she was seated. Jon's hand discreetly crept onto her right thigh and gently squeezed it. 

"You look stunning, my love. You look like a Queen." His Queen, Sansa repeated in her mind. It took all her might to control herself from kissing him in front of all the Lords because he looked absolutely delicious to her. She had wanted to ravish him right where they were. Jon smiled at her when he caught her staring at him and she blushed. It was unbearable. It felt like the longest day. 

"Thank you, my Lords for meeting me here. There are some things I would like to address and let me begin by saying, to remind you of what is ahead of us. This winter is our deadliest yet. The White Walkers will find us and we need to be ready when they do. Running and hiding is not the way. The only way we can be ready is if we are all in this together as one army. United as one army in the North. Because that's where the White Walkers will come for first. The Wall can't protect us forever and we need to be vigilant, my Lords. For these beings are not men. They are worse than men."

"These beings, what are they?" a voice asked from the back of the room. He was knight from House Mormont. Jon looked around him and saw that most of these men had never witnessed the monstrosity that were the White Walkers. He couldn't find the words to explain to them. 

"They are monsters. They have powers we do not understand and they can turn our best men and our loved ones against us. All I know about them is how we can fight and defeat them."

"You have fought and killed them before?" another asked. Jon nodded his head. 

"My Lords, I know this may all seem unreal to all of you but I assure you that it is real. And it is coming," Jon paused as he wondered how he should continue further. The men whispered amongst themselves discussing what they imagined the White Walkers were like. 

"And I know there were some words that were said... " Jon continued as the hall by hushed down to listen.

" About me as King in the North. My Lords, these White Walkers do not care if you are King, a Lord, or a brave knight or a wildling, we're all the same to them. Turning us into them, meat for their army. I've witnessed this with my brothers when we fought them at Hardhome. We lost." The room went silent as Jon recalled the harrowing memory of his fallen Night's Watch comrades. 

"As your King, I promise to lead you and fight alongside you in the battle to come and I hope you find it in your heart to follow my lead. If you do not, perhaps you can fight for the honour of one that matters." Jon stopped and turned to Sansa who was intently listening to Jon as he reached out to these men. The men in the hall looked around and to each other wondering to whom Jon was referring to. That person must be of high importance for the King to make such an announcement. Jon took a deep breath and exhaled and reached out his hand to Sansa. He nodded for her to take his hand and stand next to him. Jon turned to the men in the room who were watching both of them with a mixture of confusion, puzzlement and raised eyebrows. 

"If you cannot accept me as your King, if it is unacceptable to you to receive a bastard as your ruler and commander, then perhaps, you would if that ruler had Stark name. The Starks have long held the North from the dangers and wars and why change that now? Would you fight and protect your lands if it meant fighting for the protection and honour of your Queen? Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell and Queen in the North." Jon presented Sansa to the room of men. There was a silence as the men watched her and Jon. 

"She saved me and a whole lot of us when she called upon the Knights of the Vale. I would not be here, a lot of us would not be here if it wasn't for her, my Lords. And she has been through enough to know what it takes to be Queen. She lived with the King's family at the Red Keep, she was held prisoner of the Lannisters when she was wedded to Tyrion Lannister. Whatever that had happened she was released from it because of a crime Tyrion had committed. Yet she still decided to come back to Winterfell despite knowing what was ahead of her and being reminded every time of what Roose Bolton had done to our family, and to yours and save whatever she could. But she was alone, my Lords. What she went through to return back home to Winterfell is evident enough to show how much she loves the North. And she loves all who protect it and fight for it. Because this is our home, the North IS our home. We have only one and it's worth fighting for. And yes, she's a Stark and she'll always be a Stark."

Jon glanced at Sansa as he said the final words. Sansa had tears in her eyes hearing Jon give his passionate plea to the Lords as they listened. He was right, she loved her home and the North. They were all family. And families look after one another. Sansa heard a clink and footsteps as her mind and emotions drifted back. She noticed the men's faces had softened somewhat. She smiled at them and bowed her head. Lord Manderly and Cerwyn stood in front of Jon and Sansa and knelt before them. They presented to her their swords, held up before their bowed heads. 

"My Lady, it would be my honour to fight for you and the North, my Queen." Lord Cerwyn was the first to speak and accept her as his Queen. 

"My Lady, I loved and respected your Father, Lord Eddard Stark a great deal. And I still do, I would fight for his honour and yours." Lord Manderly was the next to proclaim. 

Slowly, the men knelt one by one before her in their acceptance of her as their Queen. She was humbled to tears that these men would pledge to fight for her and her family's honour. She knew now what Jon must have felt when they chanted his name as their King. Sansa beamed at Jon, with tears in her eyes. She was Queen and these were her people. She felt an overwhelming desire to protect them and their families, and she vowed that she would with all her might and her political knowledge to hold up the North as high as she could.

"Thank you, my Lords. I only have one desire in my heart for you. Your families are my family, your children are my children and your men are my men. As you pledge your allegiance to House Stark, I pledge my vow to you to look after all of you like my own. The North remembers and it shall rise up like never before!" Sansa declared as loudly as a lady could and bowed her head to the men who knelt before her. The men erupted in cheers as soon as she ended and Jon swooped her up in his arms for a tight embrace. He was more relieved than joyous that the men accepted her as Queen. His Queen. They were together now, King and Queen of the North. 

Jon and Sansa were both on a high note after they had said their goodbyes and took their leave from the great hall. Sansa's hand was itching with need to hold Jon's as he walked beside her. They were heading to nowhere in particular, Sansa realised. They were both overwhelmed with what had just taken place and officiated. Brienne and Podrick were following behind them and Sansa suddenly remembered she had told Jon she was going to catch up on her reading. She giggled quietly at the thought, from being declared Queen to wanting to sit in the library and read. It was a big change of events. Perhaps it would be a good time for her sit quietly and recollect her thoughts and reflect, now that she had new duties to fulfill. Sansa stopped and turned to Brienne and Podrick to announce that she had wanted to be alone in the library. 

"My Lady, Your Grace. I shall wait outside until you are done, " Brienne suggested as Sansa approached the library chambers. Sansa shook her head and turned to Jon. 

"Jon is with me. If there is nothing he needs to do that is important, he will be with me in the library. Besides there are matters now that we have to discuss. Jon will keep me safe, Brienne," Sansa assured the lady knight and her squire as Sansa stepped forward to the heavy oak doors of the library. Jon nodded his agreement and Brienne and Podrick bowed and took their leave. Jon was beginning to think that Sansa as Queen came naturally to her. 

Sansa pulled Jon by his hand and led him to the library. It was no modest chamber with shelves and shelves as high as the ceiling, lined with scrolls and leather bound books that generations of Starks kept and treasured as a gift to their children and their children's children. Jon pushed the heavy oak doors to close them shut and turned to find Sansa already with a book sitting on the stone bench by a window. Jon could stare at her all day, even if she didn't move. She was a portrait of beauty and love. Jon slowly walked over to the shelves and examined the books lining them. He never had a fascination with books like Sansa or Bran did. He was more likely outside in the courtyard sparring with the stable boys or Robb or chasing Rickon. In fact he probably had never stepped into the great library of Winterfell. Mainly because he was a bastard and wasn't allowed anywhere near grand and formal chambers such as the great hall or the library. Jon picked a book from the shelf and sat down beside Sansa to read. Sansa chuckled quietly watching Jon copying her. 

"I can read, you know," Jon retorted when he heard Sansa's laugh. 

"Oh and what is it that you're reading?" Sansa teased him and looked over at his book. It was showing a paragraph on the early beginnings of the ancient cities.

Jon stuck out his tongue at her and grabbed her book from her hands. Sansa chased him as he tried to get away and followed him round and round the shelves. They laughed like children as Sansa attempted to grab Jon but missed as he was too quick and agile for her. Sansa paused when she realised she couldn't find him. Gosh, she hadn't played hide and seek since she was a child! She supposed it was one way to celebrate. Sansa heard a rustle of pages in a corner to her right. She peeked in from behind a shelf and saw Jon reading her book. He was engrossed with it that he didn't realise that Sansa was creeping up behind him. 

Jon looked at the words, Prince Aemon the Dragonknight. He knew the story by heart. It was his favourite story that Old Nan used to tell him and the Stark children before bedtime. Sansa looked over his shoulder at what he was reading and observed Jon. His expression was soft and tender and looked as if he was trying to remember something dear to him. 

"How did you find this? This was my favourite book. Old Nan used to tell me stories about the Dragonknight," Jon grinned as he flipped the pages and turned to Sansa. 

"They were my favourite stories too. Of heroes and saving their beloved damsels in distress. I had wished for one to come for me one day," Sansa gushed, recalling her daydreams when she was a young girl of ten. They were long gone. 

"I suppose they were all just stories," Sansa continued, her voice was quiet and filled with her own sorrowful realisation that there were no such thing as heroes and gallant Knights. Growing up taught her that. 

Jon recognised the disappointment in her voice and returned the book to her in her hands. Without warning, Jon scooped Sansa up in his arms and ran towards the stone bench where they were sitting previously. Sansa squealed in delight and laughed at his childish antics. He sat down with her in his arms and pressed his forehead to hers. And whispered in her ears, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. 

"I'll be your knight in shining armour and save you from your distress. My Queen."


	5. Crows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: A super long chapter because of multiple flashbacks and largely dedicated to Bran. Mostly inspired from S6x10 Tower of Joy scenes. Anyway, it is time.  
> For Jonsa fans, a sexy bit I left just for you, thanks to a glorious dream I had of Jon and Sansa having sex (I really did and I was watching them!). How could I not? :) enjoy! xx

Chapter 5: Crows

"Promise me, Ned. Promise me." 

Her words rang in his head over and over and he couldn't stop his tears from flowing. Her blood was in his hands, her head was in his arms as he cradled the newborn baby boy. Mother and son, beloved sister and nephew. One at the beginning of life and one whose ended. Ned Stark looked at the woven bassinet that held Lyanna's newborn. What was he going to do? He wiped his tears on his sleeve. 

The wretched war had claimed his loved ones. He never wanted a part of this. But how could he say no to Robert? And saving his sister Lyanna from Targaryen hands, his honour would not let him abandon those he loved. And Cat. She must be sick with worry, and in Ned's mind and body, it had felt like years since he left Winterfell and his new young wife to stand with Robert in his rampage against the Mad King. 

Howland Reed pulled at the reins to slow the horses down as they came to a clearing deep in the woods. It looked safe and out of sight enough for Ned and him to stay the night after a day of mourning. Ned nodded and got off the cart, his arms holding his newborn nephew. A handmaid had accompanied them to nurse the orphan baby. Ned handed the cooing newborn into her arms and immediately the infant took to her teats as soon as she offered his tiny mouth. That poor boy was hungry and cold. Ned thought of Cat. She was carrying their own son and it stabbed Ned's heart that he couldn't be there to hold her, to caress her growing belly. 

"My Lord, best if we get some rest. I'll make a fire and take first watch," the young Lord of House Reed offered. Ned owed his life to this man. He may be small in stature but he had the heart of a dragon. Dragons. Ned wondered if any would come sniffing for their newborn master. The little boy had a dragon rider's blood in him after all. 

Ned sat on a large root of a tree he was standing next to. He closed his eyes. His body was hurt, his spirit was broken, his heart was in pieces. Perhaps, Howland was right. A rest was absolutely necessary. Ned watched as Howland gathered some the dry leaves and twigs he found around him. Being on the war path had made them excellent survivors, forging new roads into woods they had never been before. Ned managed a weak smile to Howland when he grinned victoriously as a light spark set off a small wisp of smoke and started a small fire. Some warmth finally. 

Ned watched the young maid as she cooed and cradled the baby as he suckled her. Ned couldn't remember her name. Was it Wanda? Or was it Wylla? Howland followed Ned's stare and then back at the fire. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to. Ned could hear his thoughts out loud. Lyanna Stark had a son with Rhaegar Targaryen. His beloved beautiful sister had died giving birth to his nephew, whose father incited Robert's wrath and whose grandfather, the Mad King Aerys, ordered the kill of Ned's own blood. Rickard Stark and Brandon Stark executed in cold blood as they confronted the King to bring their loved one back home. Oh Lyanna, Lyanna. What have we gotten ourselves into now? 

Ned had a sore headache come on as he attempted to close his eyes to rest. His head was pounding. He could not rid of the heart wrenching memory of his sister breathing her last and dying in his arms. Death was the currency of this damned war and he was not willing to pay anymore. Three Starks dead was too high a price. 

"What are you going to name him, my Lord?" 

Ned blinked at the fire as Howland's voice seeped into his ears and mind. Lyanna had mentioned a name. But he couldn't put it together as he held the baby who looked back at him with earnest brown eyes. What was he going to do with this infant? Send him away as a ward in another House? Let another care for him while he looked after his own young family? Ned couldn't do that to Lyanna. Mother and son needed to be as close to one another as possible. He would bury her in the crypt and her son would grow up around her. Ned's heart found comfort in that thought. But Robert. If he ever found out the infant was Rhaegar's, he would not bat an eye to have the baby killed. Robert was reckless and his wrath was legendary, with bodies to show for lying in its wake. Ned had lost count of the Targaryens Robert had vanquished. 

Ned shuddered imagining what Robert was capable of. No, he would go to Jon Arryn. Jon would know what was best. He was wise and kind. He raised Ned and Robert himself. Perhaps, the little boy would grow up in the Vale, under Jon's care. Although Jon Arryn's age was catching up with him, Ned trusted the old man. Ned decided that Jon seemed like a proper name for the young one. He respected the name. If the baby wasn't going to own nor possess anything, he would have at least a respectable name. Jon. Ned said that name in his mind over and over. Jon Stark of Winterfell. Ned paused. Snow. It had to be Snow instead. All children of questionable birth were named Snow in the North. This little baby's existence would no doubt be questioned by many. 

A Snow would be a better name than a Targaryen for now. Ned teared again as he thought of the unfortunate life that has already begun for the baby boy. The least he could do was bring up the boy as his own. He promised her, he would look after Jon. There was no other choice. He would live with that choice and secret till his dying day. May his wife find it in her heart to forgive him, this necessary lie and an indelible tainted mark on their family's honour. 

"Jon. His name is Jon."

**********

Meera tugged at the large slate of wood she had found drifting in the river when she was collecting water for both Bran and her. It had seemed sturdy enough. The gods heard her prayers and she sighed in relief. All she needed was some twine that would make do as rope. She was a small girl as most Reeds were but she was raised believing she had the strength and spirit of a giant. She may not be able to carry Bran on her shoulders like Hodor did, but she could pull and push with all her might. They have come this far now. And they needed to run. Run as fast as they could before the Night King caught up with them and capture Bran. His deathly mark was on the young man. Bran was a Stark, he had the bloodline of the ancient Kings of the North in him, his name bore the House her father pledged his unwavering allegiance to, so he was worth saving and helping. Meera vowed to Jojen that she would do all within her to help Bran. That was after all their mission. 

"Oh where did you find it?" Bran asked as he saw her lugging the wooden slate behind her. He was pleased. Relieved that he wouldn't be so much of a deadweight to this valiant young lady. He wished so hard that he could walk and climb on his healthy legs as he did in his visions, which were coming in hard and fast. Their urgency were portentous of what was imminent. For now, all Bran could do was make a silent promise to honour Meera and the late Jojen for their kindness and courage. 

"It looks strong enough to hold you for now, I suppose. I have prayed to the gods that a horse comes our way so I won't have to drag you through the dirt and snow. Winter is already here. "

Bran looked around him and winced. Indeed the snow was much thicker here and the flakes were not stopping their deluge. She has done more than enough, and Bran also hoped to see a horse in his vision heading his way soon. 

They had a much needed rest and sat down around a very small fire. It would do for now. Meera had suggested they be as invisible as possible, leave as little mark as possible and whenever they felt strong enough they would move and continue the road ahead. And that road now was heading towards the Wall. Bran had to see Jon. He needed to tell him what he saw. He knew why Father couldn't tell his secret, not even to Mother. He wasn't the bastard brother the Stark children knew him as, he was their cousin. Jon was family still. And he had Targaryen blood in him. A Targaryen with Stark blood in him. Bran realised what that meant. The urgency rose in him again and felt his stomach twists into knots. His hands began to tremble and his body shook involuntarily. His eyes went white. 

**********

Bran found himself in the courtyard of Winterfell looking up to the balcony. Everything was the same to him, except the wood and iron seemed newer and freshly built. He heard a familiar voice humming. Bran tiptoed to see who it was until the figure came near the rails. She was red haired and beautiful with a large belly that ballooned out of her blue grey gown. 

"Mother." 

Bran whispered to himself as he saw Catelyn lean against the pillar as she looked out of the balcony. It had a good view of the front gates. Bran guessed she was looking and perhaps waiting for Father to come home. What Bran didn't know was that she did that every day. She stood at the same spot, her hand on her unborn baby and hum her favourite song to him. They had already picked out a name. Robb, Ned had said to her once. And she loved it. The baby kicked every time she called him Robb. 

She missed Ned. Just two months after their marriage, Catelyn remembered, seeing Robert Baratheon, in his fierce black bearded fury gallop his way into Winterfell, pleading with Ned to save Lyanna. Catelyn had a sister. She would do the same if Lysa was abducted, so she understood. She admired Robert's love and passion for Lyanna and secretly wished Ned would one day grow to be as passionate and fond of her. He was a quiet unassuming man. A world of difference from Brandon Stark, the fiery and charismatic wild wolf of Winterfell. 

Perhaps it was for the better. He had no eyes for other women the moment he learned Catelyn was his to wed. She adored the loyalty and honour from Ned. She was brought up to be the same. Perhaps, their families made a good match this time. And Catelyn hoped that she will bear him sons and daughters to carry on the noble Stark name. 

Alas, the road ahead was empty and Catelyn sadly moved and left for her chambers. She felt the baby kick again in protest but she patted it trying to soothe it, assuring it that she would come back and wait again tomorrow. 

**********

The door creaked open as Sansa stepped in to find Jon in his chambers. It was empty but the candles by his bed side were lit. Sansa missed Jon terribly today. She hadn't seen nor spoken to him yesterday and today. When she awoke in the morning, it seemed he was already gone to attend to something and when he returned she was busy with matters of her own. After being declared as King and Queen in the North, Sansa and Jon had more in their hands to deal with. So much for ruling together, as they had planned. Maybe, it was a good thing for now, that they were separated and rebuilding Winterfell and forging alliances to prepare for what was ahead. Besides, being together may do more harm than good, now that they both couldn't resist each other's touch and hungry lips. 

She had never seen a White Walker before but she believed Jon that they were the devil's spawn. She prayed fervently to the Seven often in the Godswoods, everyday twice in the day and once before dusk for protection and harmony. Also for forgiveness, on her part for living in sin with her half brother. They hadn't crossed any boundaries yet but they had been dangerously close. 

Inside her ached with longing and love, but her mind objected to her desires. But the heart wanted what it wanted and Sansa was exhausted of being denied of peace and happiness. And peace and happiness came in the person of Jon Snow. How far she had come, from loving princes to pledging her heart, body and soul to a low born bastard and former Lord Commander. Just as he had pledged his life and heart to hers. They were one. Sansa understood what love meant finally. And she would not let it go this time. She would hold on to it as hard as she could no matter what it took. 

Sansa reached behind her to close the door to retreat into her own chambers. She had dismissed all the servants that day, to return at first light of the morning, for she had plans for the night that required privacy. Sansa heard voices, footsteps and clinking of metal coming her way. Sansa stood in the hall way to see who was coming. He stopped when he saw her. 

Jon leaned to speak to Davos and the men who were accompanying him, whilst glancing her way. Sansa saw them nod and turn to leave. Sansa stepped back towards the door and smiled. Finally. She waited for Jon to come to her. When he finally did, Sansa's eyes met with Jon's and they did all the talking without saying a word. Jon pushed the door to his chambers slowly as Sansa was leaning against them. In what seemed like hours of staring into each other's eyes and floating into the bed chambers, they were standing face to face. 

"Sansa... I missed you." Jon enveloped Sansa in a tight embrace, lifting her up. This felt familiar, as Sansa closed her eyes and nuzzled her face onto his. 

"I missed you too... Where have you been?" Sansa whispered in his ears and kissing his cheek simultaneously. Jon returned her kisses and his mouth clamoured onto hers, parting her lips with his tongue. Sansa nipped at his bottom lip and ran her tongue delicately over them before meeting his in hers. Jon's hands were now on her waist and slowly caressing their way up onto her chest. She felt his fingers undo the strings of her cloak to untie it and she felt it drop to her feet. Her eyes were still closed, savouring every bite and lick Jon's lips made. She didn't stop him. She had already given him full consent and access to her body to do whatever he wished before she knew he would ask. 

Soon enough, as his hands reached her rib cage, Jon pulled back, panting wildly with his eyes questioning hers. Her body was Jon's, she had no doubt about it. She was his Queen, she desired so strongly to do what Kings and Queens do together while in their bed chambers. Sansa licked her lips as she deliberately placed Jon's hands on her chest. Jon gulped. He seemed to know what he was doing. But he was unsure still. Sansa watched him, her eyes hooded with desire. Jon's breeches were getting tighter as he felt his erection rising to the occasion. 

Sansa's hands moved to her back and started to fidget with her laces. It took Jon a second to realise what was going to happen. His half sister was going to undress herself for him. Jon kissed Sansa again and this time his hands grabbed hers from behind her. He couldn't resist, perhaps it was second nature that his hands rapidly moved down to grab the firm flesh of her buttocks. 

Sansa whimpered as she felt Jon's hands squeeze her cheeks and push her body closer to him. So close she could feel his hardness through her dress, in between her legs. Hearing Sansa's soft moans gave Jon what he needed to lead her to his bed. His fingers were precariously close to her forbidden centre as they kneaded the lovely flesh of her cheeks. Every time his fingers brushed against the small crevice in between her cheeks, Jon heard Sansa moan. It drove Jon wild with desire. As they continued their dance of tongues, Jon moved with Sansa towards a particular direction. He didn't know where they were going, he didn't care. Then, he felt Sansa stop moving and released herself from his embrace. Jon opened his eyes and saw Sansa now sitting on the edge of his bed. Her face was now greeted by by his breeches. His hard cock could hardly be contained. Sansa looked up at Jon and wondered why he continued standing there, unmoving. His cock was burning hot with need. And he knew even a touch from her would make him spill almost immediately. As if she understood, Sansa took Jon's hand and returned them to her breasts. Jon groaned as he massaged the wonderful mounds of flesh in his hands. It felt exquisite and warm. Sansa's hands were now on his thigh grabbing it as she whimpered in pleasure as Jon squeezed her breasts and played with her hard nipples. She gently moved her hands up and finally rested on his fully clothed cock. Jon paused and watched Sansa who was watching him. 

"Sansa... I wish.... I wish you weren't my sister. I wish we didn't share the same blood. I wish you were my wife. Ohh.. The things I want to do with you.... The gods will condemn me to hell.. " Jon said breathlessly as Sansa ran her fingers along his length. Sansa was awed at how hard and long it seemed. She had never touched one before. It felt incredibly beautiful to her hands and undeniably seductive. She licked her lips in anticipation. 

"And I shall be right there in hell with you. My King," Sansa smirked and unlaced his breeches as fast as her fingers could. Jon felt the cloth slide down his legs. Sansa gasped as she saw the rigid phallic member leap out before her eyes. She had never seen one so close before. It was beautiful and delicious. Sansa licked her lips as she craved for a taste. Jon took her hand and brought it near his cock. Even in the throes of lust and desire, he had the will to stop and ask Sansa if this was what they were really going to do. As he knew, there was no return from this point forward. He wanted to be certain that this was what Sansa wanted too. He would never forgive himself if she was doing it only to please him. 

"Sansa... If we do this... You and me... Do you want this? I need to know... We could never go back to being our old selves anymore.... Once we cross this line, my sweet girl. "

Sansa's mouth watered. She wanted this more than she could ever imagine. She wanted Jon to feel good and she wanted to ravage him. Devour him, taste him. And here he was, so close inches from her lips. She never knew a desire for a man could be so wanton. It was eating her up inside. Sansa looked up at him, her eyes, big and blue. 

"Jon, I am yours and you are mine. My body, my soul will forever be tethered to yours in this life and I will never deny myself of my own heart's desires ever again. Take me, take all of me.. " Sansa spoke and as she did her breath blew hot on his cock that made Jon hiss in pleasure. Sansa took the chance and laid her lips on his tip. Jon's eyes went wide as he watched Sansa's dainty lips slowly part to welcome his cock into her mouth. 

Jon tasted warm and musky, his scent in her mouth was unmistakable. She continued stroking his cock with her lips and tongue, her head bobbing up and down, sucking with all her breath, the hard yet soft and fleshy appendage. It was an incredibly pleasurable texture in her mouth and she closed her eyes relishing every mouthful of his cock and hearing Jon moan and groan. It was music to her ears that Jon was enjoying her efforts. It was hardly an effort to her. Sansa loved every second her tongue and mouth caressed the rigid length of his cock from the base to the tip.

Jon was close. He couldn't remember if he had experienced this before but it was heavenly. Jon had to open his eyes to watch Sansa, feeling a pressure in his groin when he saw Sansa's blue eyes looking back at him, her pretty mouth full of his cock. He couldn't hold it in and tried hard as he could, the image of Sansa sucking him nearly released his orgasm. It was a beautiful sight. Never in his life would he be greeted by such a moment as this. Jon caved in. 

"Sansa... My love.. Ahh.. I can't hold it.. You're just.. "

Jon couldn't speak as Sansa's mouth suddenly filled with his hot thick fluid and as hard as she tried to contain as all she could in her mouth, there were more shooting in. Jon's head was thrown back, moaning loudly and hissing in pleasure, his hands on her head needing some support as he came hard and fast. Some of Jon's hot seed dribbled out of her mouth as she slowly swallowed the thick fluid. It tasted strong and salty, very much like Jon but strangely pleasant. It made her want even more. Sansa wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and noticed the viscous milky consistency. Sansa smiled and glanced at Jon who was slightly swaying and trying his best to stand up. He looked so handsome with his hair falling down in curls over his face and his eyes dark and blazing with his need for her. 

It turned her on so much that she found herself quite wet in her underclothes. Jon finally sat down beside her and kissed her, this time tasting himself. It didn't matter, Jon wanted to eat her up, even though he was spent, he wanted more of her than ever. Soon, Sansa found themselves lying on his bed, Jon half naked and Sansa's bodice removed exposing her full round breasts. 

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself... It felt amazing and I just.. "

"I loved it. I love watching you enjoy it. I could do it again if you want. I want to."

Jon managed a weak chuckle at Sansa's demand. He couldn't quite believe he was hearing that from Sansa. He spilled a huge amount a few seconds ago in her warm inviting mouth, a move that probably required a bit of down time. Sansa did all the right things with her mouth and tongue. Jon couldn't recall having a lady's mouth on his cock ever. It sent shivers down his spine. Perhaps, he could give back to Sansa what she gave to him. 

"My love, I want to give you something.. what if I gave you a kiss ... Down there?"

Sansa's eyebrows shot up and knitted in confusion. Kiss her down there? What kind of kiss was that? 

Jon grinned at her and suddenly felt a surge of strength come over him and rolled on top on Sansa. She giggled at his slight clumsiness. Jon nipped at her nose and her lips. Kissing her lightly and gazed into her eyes. Her eyes were a fiery blue now, mad with desire and lust. Oh be still his beating heart! It was pounding furiously and Jon swore he could feel Sansa's heart beating just as frantically in rhythm with his. 

"As long as it doesn't hurt, you can kiss me anywhere you wish, my King."

Jon's smile faded slightly as Sansa spoke those words. He wanted to kick himself for forgetting how the wretched Ramsay hurt her and used her body when she was sold to him as his bride. Jon's hand caressed her face. Yes, poor sweet girl, there would be neither hurt nor pain, only pleasure and love, this time. It was a new chapter for them. A forbidden chapter hidden from the rest of the world, only witnessed by them, within these stone walls of this bed chamber. And it was only the beginning. 

Jon's mouth grazed over Sansa's hard nipples as he squeezed and fondled them. Sansa gasped, loving the feeling of his hot tongue on her sensitive teats. She felt a gush of wetness and heat seep through her clothes. Jon bit and licked his way down slowly and grabbed her skirt and pushed it up to her waist. He needed access to her wet heat. He knew she was drenched and ready for him. He could smell her intoxicating scent. It was a heady aroma as he neared her pelvis and smothered her hip bones with licks and kisses. 

And there it was, a small triangle of soft auburn downy patch of hair hiding her wet heat he was craving for all these while. It was a glorious sight that greeted his eyes. Pink and glistening and had the right amount of scrumptious flesh, that appeared inviting. He needed a moment to admire the beauty that was Sansa's flower. Slowly, Jon clamped his hungry mouth on her and felt Sansa shiver and whimper. Jon's eyes looked up and searched for Sansa's. As if on cue, Sansa gazed dreamily into his, wondering what he was doing, his head in between her legs. Jon locked his lips on her and opened his mouth and slid his tongue all over her delicate sensitive folds. Sansa arched her back and silently screamed in pleasure and surprise.

It was out of this world. She felt Jon's tongue probe and stroke her inner walls and his lips sucking on a tiny nub which made her howl like a she wolf in heat. It took seconds. The pressure was building in her loins, it was blooming rapidly as Jon continued his oral assault on her clit and it gave way to an explosion of pleasure that made her clench her fist in his head of curls. Jon grabbed and squeezed her inner thighs as she rode on her ecstasy wave, kissing and stroking her with his tongue in quick light feathery brushes.

Sansa screamed in heady bliss, she didn't care who heard her. She was in another world entirely. Jon's tongue slowed down on her sensitive nub when he felt her body gave a slight jerk and shiver. She breathed hard as she eased off her pleasure ride. She was limp and panting, her eyes closed from the sheer intensity of her first orgasm. Jon grinned, satisfied and sure that he was her first. His cock throbbed with need again, harder than before Sansa had it in between her lips earlier. 

He may not have taken her maidenhead and perhaps it was good that he didn't, for the guilt and responsibility was too much to bear, but he knew in his heart that he had given her her first orgasm. He loved this sweet girl even more. A half sister no longer, she was his wife, his partner, his Queen and she had vowed herself to him. As he had vowed himself to her. 

One day, away from the world, they would make a pact to belong to each other forever. His cloak on hers. To protect her, he wouldn't let anyone else touch her again. He would promise her that. Perhaps, there were some gods somewhere who would understand and bless their union. For now, all he wished for was that by some miracle, that by some turn of fate that he indeed wasn't Ned's son. For once in his life, he wished he wasn't a Stark. 

**********  
Bran walked around the courtyard of Winterfell as quietly as he could around the people who were bustling about, unaware and unseeing of his presence. He knew his spirit was there and people could sense him but as long as he kept silent and observed what the vision showed, that was all he needed. 

Father turned around when Bran called out to him but alas, Father's eyes were veiled and Bran was invisible to him. The Three Eyed Raven warned Bran against any meddling of the past. All that happened, happened for its own reasons. It could not be undone. Hodor was proof. His death still broke Bran's heart as did Summer's. The wolf and the gentle giant were his loyal friend and protector. Rest in peace, Hodor and Summer. Bran felt a tear roll down his cheek. 

As Bran, searched for a familiar face, a comforting voice boomed out from behind him. 

"Fetch Lady Stark at once. Tell her the war is over. Lord Stark is coming home."

Ser Rodrik Cassel stormed on his horse through the gates as they opened. He had white in his hair though not covering his head entirely as Bran had remembered. His beard was long and braided and his kind eyes shone fiercely. Bran would recognise those eyes from anywhere. The stewards nodded and ran to do as ordered. Bran watched the slight commotion and jubilation as the people around him clapped and laughed with joy. Even when young, Father was well loved. Bran turned as he sensed Mother was standing behind him. She had tears in her eyes and cradling her swollen belly. She was overjoyed at the news. Her husband was coming home. 

Bran felt a gust of chill surround him and opened his eyes. Meera was poking the small fire and watching him. She knew not to disturb while had these episodes and simply watch out for nearby danger. 

"What was it this time?" she asked. 

"I was home. I saw my Mother. And Robb."

"What were they doing? What did they tell you?"

Bran looked down. The vision didn't show him anything. Or he left too soon before it could. Bran shook his head and Meera understood perfectly what it meant. Being a greenseer was a curse. Bran had to decipher for himself what the visions meant. He had a constant nagging fear that he would make a deadly mistake. He desired so much to make it home, now that he was so near the Wall. And to the south of it was Winterfell Castle. 

He had no idea if Arya or Sansa were alive. Rickon was safe with Osha. Or at least he hoped that no danger had befallen them. His only hope now was Jon. Bran knew it was unwise to seek Jon's help and protection. The last thing he wanted was Jon to be in danger. And going to Jon would expose him the deadly risk. But Bran remembered the tales told to him of how the Wall was built. Magic and spells were carved onto the ice by his ancestors so it would provide protection from unnatural forces, and from wildlings and giants. Perhaps it would protect Bran from the Others too. 

"Well best we get some rest. Once you're awake, we will make our way to the Wall. To Jon."

Meera's suggestion comforted Bran enough to lull his frantic nerves. He closed his eyes and laid his head on his cloak. Jon, he needed to see his brother Jon. 

************  
It had been already a few months since Lyanna's death and Robert's victory. Ned Stark held the covered bassinet and placed sleeping Jon on the bench next to him. Robert had asked to meet him here. The inn was full of women of all sorts, short, tall, thin, curvy all dressed to titillate the senses. This wasn't the inn, that Robert had promised to meet at. Ned shook his head and frowned as he heard Robert's booming slurring voice enter the room. 

Robert's betrothal was in a fortnight. And here he was, gallivanting at the brothel right in the centre of King's Landing, where everyone who was anyone would notice him. His victory over the Mad King, made Robert Baratheon notorious. His face was not one that was easy to forget. His new wife to be wouldn't appreciate it very much if she had known of his whereabouts. Ned desperately wanted to go home. He had sent a raven to Sir Rodrick almost four months ago but perhaps he only could make his way home after Robert's wedding. 

"Ned! My Ned! Look at you! Come 'ere you old crook!" a drunk Robert cheerfully reached out to Ned, swaying and staggering his way to the table where Ned was sitting. Ned pressed his fingers to his temple. Robert smelled filthy. As filthy as the brothel they were in. They had better leave before the baby woke up. 

"Keep it down, my Lord. I see you're celebrating. And what a place to celebrate. I thought you better than to come here." Ned looked around him and back to Robert. His guards were nowhere around and Ned sensed Robert had rewarded them for their service with a bit of female attention. 

"Now, now, don't you wag your fingers at me. They had my favourite wine. And sold my favourite toys. Whores!" Robert laughed as he wagged his fingers at Ned. Robert was attracting too much unwanted attention. The male patrons who ignored them earlier, kept staring and watching Robert and Ned. This was getting dangerous. To Ned's relief, Robert finally calmed down and plonked himself on the bench facing him. Robert drained his goblet of wine and tossed it behind him. Ned watched his childhood friend sit silently, his dark eyes looking aimlessly around him. He was still very much hurting from his beloved's death. 

"I see her every night Ned. I can't do it. I just can't find the strength to carry on anymore. She's all I see, all I want. I shouldn't have agreed to it. What am I going to do now? "

Ned sighed. He glanced down at the bassinet and noticed it was quiet. Jon had been an easy baby. He hoped his future children would be just as easy to look after and care for. 

"You be a man and honour your word, Robert Baratheon. You have done enough for me and my family, I'm thankful now that my father and Brandon can rest in peace. Besides, Cersei Lannister? My Lord, she is the most beautiful golden haired maiden of the Westerlands and soon in Westeros. Wed her, bed her and put babes in her. Take each day as it comes."

Robert's downward countenance and silence told Ned that it would take Robert a lifetime to recover from Lyanna's death. 

"We would be bound by blood Ned, our houses joined for eternity. The gods are unkind. They took my Lyanna! What need do I have of them now?" Robert snarled as he slammed his fist on the table. Ned jumped slightly and glanced again quickly at baby Jon. He was still quiet.

"The gods gave you the victory you wanted. Now, my Lord, shall we get back? The Lannisters are having a council and best that you be there, my Lord. Cleaned up and sober."

Robert sniffed, his nose twitching in a slight grimace. He never did like Tywin Lannister. But he presented a proposal he couldn't refuse. Military strength to take down Aerys and his minions. A joining of their Houses when Robert conquered the Throne. Cersei Lannister in her flaxen haired and emerald eyed beauty was difficult to pry his eyes away from. Marvellous as she was, he hadn't taken a liking to blondes as he had always envisioned a dark beauty like Lyanna Stark as his wife. But he could try. Enough wine would do the trick.

Robert signalled for his cloak and for the steward to find his guards. It was time to get back to real life. Ned sighed in relief and waited patiently as Robert prepared himself to leave. Ned walked behind him, gently rocking the bassinet, hoping baby Jon would be a good little boy and sleep through the night. 

*******  
"Fetch some water, quickly!" a frantic voice shouted to one of the hand maids. Bran looked around and realised he was in Mother and Father's bed chambers. A shrill scream startled him and turned to see Catelyn in a small pool of blood atop the bed. It was time, the baby was coming. Robb was pushing his way out of Catelyn like the fierce and brave soul that he was. Bran was frightened but at the same time amazed to what he bore witness to. He had tears in his eyes. He was so thankful that he got to see Robb again. 

In a matter of seconds, Robb was wailing at the top of his tiny lungs as the midwife cradled him and swaddled him in linen and furs. Catelyn was exhausted and in pain. The physical pain was only exacerbated by Ned's absence. She sobbed in elation as Robb was handed to her and Catelyn kissed his head as he wriggled and writhed in his blanket. Catelyn propped him to her breast to feed. He had dark brownish red hair, Bran had noticed. He smiled seeing how much Robb would look like Mother when he grew up. The handmaids fussed about to clean up Catelyn so she could rest. Catelyn struggled to keep her eyes open but gave in to her exhaustion and laid her head down to sleep. 

Bran walked over to baby Robb as he was placed in his cot. Bran smiled and reached out his hand to the infant. Robb smiled back at him, his small blue eyes beaming and his tiny hands grasped his finger. Bran froze in shock and felt his whole body jerk awake. 

Bran panted as he awoke from his dream. Robb had reached out and touched his hand. He could feel his tiny fingers. It was so real. Bran found it hard to tell apart his visions from his dreams. Bran became worried when he realised what Robb's interaction meant. Could he change the past? Did he have the power to? Could he save Father and Mother from the hell their family would be going through? Bran sat up and in his haste, knocked over a pile of wood stacked near him. Meera had placed it to shield Bran from the sight of anyone who could be near. Meera jerked awake. 

"What's wrong? What did you see?"

"We have to make our way to the Wall now. "

Bran didn't care if it was dark, he and Meera had enough rest to continue the journey. He couldn't waste anymore time till he reached Castle Black and reunite with Jon. He would rest as much as he could at Castle Black. Meera hoisted Bran onto the wooden slate and pulled him along, treading as fast as she could in the snow towards the Wall. There was urgency in Bran's voice that made her worry.

They had pushed and trudged their way for what seemed like a day or two resting in between for a nap and sustenance, before seeing a slight peak of towering ice over the horizon. 

"We're getting there, Bran. What will you say to him when you see him? " Meera asked, her breath incredibly steady as she pulled the makeshift sled and stomped through the thick snow. She had become quite strong in their voyage. 

"I don't know. I suppose I hope we won't be kicked out first," Bran mused, chuckling slightly at the irony if after their long arduous journey to Castle Black, that they would be ignored or Jon wouldn't be there. 

Meera then stopped and pointed to the gates. The Wall was magnificent. If Bran could stand he would. It was more enormous than he had imagined in his childhood. It was indeed magical. And breathtakingly intimidating. As they approached, they heard the gates open. The Night's Watch guard post had been watching them from the top of the wall. Bran sucked in his breath. This was it, he would get to see Jon and tell him about everything. Jon would be so happy to see him. Bran sobbed as the thoughts consumed his heart in joy. Finally, after so long. 

Bran saw a figure walking to him, wearing a cloak that resembled a crow. Bran smiled, it looked like Jon from afar. Bran opened his mouth to greet Jon but as the figure came near, he paused when he saw it wasn't. 

"My Lord, I am Bran Stark of Winterfell and she is Meera Reed. I am here to see my brother Jon." Bran quickly decided to greet the man who was approaching him. Surely they would recognise the Stark name. And true enough, the man stopped in his tracks and looked at both of them. 

"My Lord, you are Bran Stark of Winterfell? Lord Ned Stark's son?" the man responded, his face awestruck. He noticed the familiar wolf fur skin draped over Bran's shoulders that looked just like Jon's and had on a brown leather tunic that was similar to what Jon wore when he left Castle Black. The face, the dark brown eyes and solemn expression seemed familiar too. Jon had spoken fondly of his family many times that Edd felt he knew them well. Edd was stunned at the presence of another Stark coming into Castle Black. Was he to expect more soon? Perhaps House Stark indeed wasn't dead. Edd shook himself out of his daze. 

Bran nodded his head and searched Edd's face for an answer to Jon's whereabouts. Edd signaled for his brothers to help Bran and Meera into the compound, there was no time to waste, if this young man was looking for Jon, perhaps he needed help going home too. 

**********  
Jon opened his sleepy eyes and looked around him. It was still dark in the night. He rubbed his eyes slightly to make out his surroundings. A leg grazed his shin. Jon immediately remembered where he was. He turned and saw red hair splayed stunningly across his pillows. His eyes followed the sleek and slender back that was turned to him. Her breathing was soft and slow. Sansa was still half dressed, smelling and sounding wonderful next to him. They both had a breathtaking night of forbidden pleasures. 

Jon smiled as he still tasted Sansa in his mouth. He ran his fingers on his lips. He craved to have her again but decided he would be a gentleman and let the Lady have her sleep. He would have to wake her soon and persuade her to rest in her own chambers. Or there would be quite a bit of explaining to do. The North remembers, he was often reminded. But for now, he would steal a few moments of holding her close to him and rest her in his arms. These moments were rare as they come and Jon promised himself every time that he would treasure them as much as he could. 

**********  
"Jon told me about the Wall. He said it was magnificent and enormous. I had no idea till I saw it with my own eyes," Bran finally spoke, putting down his bowl of hot soup. Finally some decent food for Meera and him. Edd, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, was watching him intently as he spoke. 

"Aye, it is what it is. I suppose it does it's job. Pardon me, my Lord but may I ask.. Does Jon know you're alive?"

Bran looked down at his empty bowl, finding hard to say the words without crying. He had wanted to reach out to Jon when he and Rickon saw the Night's Watch set up camp at Craster's keep. But instinct held him back telling him it wasn't time yet. Bran desperately hoped this was his time to reunite with his brother, now that he had discovered Jon's true identity. 

Jon Targaryen. No longer a Snow. No longer a bastard of Winterfell. He was a high born Lord and had always been. Father had always been kind and loved him and protected him like one of his own. Bran realised that it was because Jon was family after all. If only Mother knew. And Sansa. What a difference it would make. 

"No, I don't think he does. We've crossed paths once but he doesn't know that. Tell me Lord Commander, where is Jon? I have to see him, it's important."

Bran watched as Edd shift uncomfortably in his seat. His expression was confusing to Bran. Something had happened here. He was sure of it. Jon was nowhere to be seen. Neither were the Night's Watch brothers dared to talk about him, as they greeted Bran. Bran found it strange as the men went silent and excused themselves politely whenever he asked them about Jon. 

Jon wouldn't desert the Night's Watch. Jon was as honourable as Father was and wouldn't abandon his vows. If he did he would be executed. He had witnessed one with Father, Jon and Robb. Bran feared the worst as his heart raced. Did he die? 

"My Lord, Jon isn't here. He is back home at Winterfell. With your sister, Sansa."

Bran's jaw dropped open in shock and awe at the revelation. Sansa was alive? 

"Sansa's alive? My sister, the one with the red hair... She's alive? 

Edd nodded, his eyes still shifty. Meera grabbed and squeezed Bran's hands sharing in his shock and joy. It was incredible news. The kind of news they came so far and wide to hear. 

"Aye, she came here, much like you did, my Lord. With a lady knight and a squire. A very tall lady knight. Jon and her marched to Winterfell to take it back from the Boltons."

Bran had to cover his mouth trying not to scream. What was happening to his family? Why were the Boltons ruling over Winterfell? Was Rickon finally with Jon and Sansa? Bran couldn't contain his glee and started laughing, feeling extremely relieved. Edd paused his story as he watched Bran cradle his head in his hands in disbelief and exhilaration. After seeing Uncle Benjen and now hearing of Jon and Sansa already at Winterfell was too much to bear. 

"Lord Commander, that is incredible news to me. To hear that my family's alive is more than what I could ask for."

Edd gave Bran and Meera a tight lipped smile, knowing the tragedy that had befallen his family. He was ecstatic for Bran too. Edd decided the least he could do for Jon was escort Bran Stark and his guardian to ride home for Winterfell. 

"But how? How did he leave Castle Black? Did he leave the Night's Watch? Could he do that? Will he be back here then? What about Sansa? I have to go back and see them."

Bran's excited questions gripped Edd as he struggled with his conscience whether or not to reveal the truth to Bran about Jon. 

"My Lord, it would be a story best told by your brother himself. I wouldn't do it justice if I told you how. But, my Lord, please allow me if you would to ride with you and Lady Meera to make sure you get safely home."

Edd hoped Bran would be satisfied with his answer. Bran thought for a moment and decided that he was right. There would be many things to talk about but for now home was on his mind. He imagined Jon, Sansa and Rickon greeting him as he entered the gates of Winterfell. Bran's heart sank as he thought of Arya. He hoped that she would be alive and return home too. 

Bran thanked Edd as he went out the room that he and Meera were boarded in. Meera stood up to place some logs into the dying fire. Bran watched the flames lick the wood as it burned to heat the cold and chill surrounding Castle Black. 

"I didn't have any hopes for them to be alive. And now that they are, I am at a loss for words," Bran confessed. It had been years since he last saw them. There was so much to tell them. And so much to do. Robb was dead. Lord of Winterfell was a title Bran would hold now. But could he, as Lord of Winterfell, protect his family and the North from the White Walkers? 

He was a cripple, he wouldn't be of much help to his own men, much less a Lord. He would rather be captured by the Night King if it meant shielding Winterfell from harm. Bran's heart almost stopped as his thoughts rested on the Night King. No. He could never step into Winterfell. Never again. The Night King would come for him and he would destroy everything in his path on whatever ground Bran stood on. Castle Black had the Wall. Winterfell didn't. The monster would ambush and seize his beloved home. He took Hodor and Summer. Bran would never let him take anyone else ever again. Enough was enough and there was nothing Bran could do, except to stay as far away from Winterfell as he could. 

It was the final straw that broke his spirit. Bran cried and sobbed as the fear took over him. Just as he was so close to reaching his loved ones, it was cruelly ripped away from his grasp. Meera rushed to sit beside him and rubbed his shoulders to comfort him. 

"We can't... We can't go back home, Meera. He will find us there and he would take everyone else... From me.. Again."

Bran stuttered through his trembling sobs and quivering lips. Meera eyes were now dazed and gazing sadly at the fire. Her hands held Bran's shoulders as she went deep in thought. She understood what he meant. She too had lost to the Night King. And if sacrifices had to be made, she acknowledged that they were necessary for the good of the realm. 

"Perhaps, we could send a raven to Winterfell. Tell Jon you're alive and well. We've come so far now, we can't turn back. Tell Jon what happened."

Meera was right. The least he could do was send a raven to Jon and Sansa to tell them he was alive and well cared for. But there was so much to tell, and Jon needed to know. Bran vowed that he would tell him the truth. And it shall set Jon free. Finally free from the shame and despair. And give him hope, if he needed any. 

Bran inhaled deeply and collected his thoughts. He would meet Jon and Sansa soon enough. Bran asked for Meera to call for Lord Commander Edd. As noble as the offer was to escort him home, perhaps the Lord Commander would agree to escort him to somewhere else instead. 

"My Lord, you asked for me? " Edd asked as he entered the room. Bran sighed as he exhaled, his eyes pleading with Edd's. 

" Yes, Lord Commander. Pardon me as I'm unable to come to you. If it's not too much trouble, I would like to send a raven to Winterfell. To my brother Jon and send him a message."

Edd smiled and nodded. 

"Certainly, my Lord, no trouble at all. I will fetch a raven for you at once," Edd gladly complied, completely delighted that he could play a part in this family's reunion. Jon deserved it. Sansa and Bran too. Bran smiled back in gratitude. 

" Thank you, Lord Commander. Oh, and one more thing, how far is the nearest town from Castle Black?"


	6. Crone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a hard chapter to write as I needed to fill it with villains but I manged to complete it. Sorry for the huge delay, was in the midst of moving house. 
> 
> This chapter sees Sansa having visions and what she does about it. And a reunion is happening sooner than we think :) Yay!

Chapter 6: Crone

He stared long and hard at the crown. So hard till his vision blurred and his thoughts overtook him. Disbelief, anger, confusion consumed him. He did everything for her. Killed for her, harmed others for her, gave his body to her. They had lost everything and Jamie was convinced his sister had lost her sanity. Whatever little that was left. He shook his head and shut his eyes tightly as his temples throbbed in his anxiety. His hands were trembling and he wasn't sure why. He hoped Cersei wouldn't find him like this. He wasn't sure what he would do if she stepped in the same room as him. As of now, he just wanted to stay as far away as possible and mourn quietly for Tommen. That sweet boy. All he wanted was to do the right thing. His own flesh and blood ripped away as Myrcella had been. The rage suddenly enveloped him, seething and rising rapidly causing Jamie to rip his golden hand and throw it against the wall. He wanted to scream, scream at the gods who were responsible but alas, he knew better that it was a deserved punishment. Punishment for what his sister and him had been doing all their lives. For pushing the poor Stark boy off the window ledge, for plotting his assassination. For their sins against nature. All he could do now was wait till his number was up. And he felt it nearing soon. Helplessness was not a feeling he enjoyed reliving again. And he was determined to rise up from it whatever it took. 

**********

Sansa stared into the mirror. All she could see was Jon beside her, or behind her, holding her close to him, so close she could imagine his warm breaths on her neck. The night they shared was one she swore never to forget. The pining for her King was getting to unbearable levels. Being in the same room with him, especially alone, would prompt her wanton desire to lay with him, spread her legs for him and let him have her way with her. A Lady she was no longer. She was an insatiable creature craving to fornicate wildly with her mate. Sansa often blushed at those thoughts. She wanted more than just his mouth on her folds. She wanted him in her. Damn to Seven hells, she wanted him to put babes in her. A boy she would call Robb and a girl called Arya. 

The door opened gently after a knock was heard. The water was warm and cozy as Sansa gingerly stepped in for her bath. Sansa's hand maid had fetched her linens to prepare for bed. Sansa laid relaxed and at ease as her hair was washed and her body rubbed and cleaned. The warm water that showered her whole body gave her life and a tranquility that she had missed for many years now. Sansa breathed in a sweet familiar fragrance and smiled - lemon and lavender oils for a wonderful rest tonight. She had asked for Maester Jorrel of House Mormont for a gentle cure to her sleeplessness and he had been kind in supplying his own concoction that he testified was 'best in the North'. Sansa closed her eyes as her handmaid applied and rubbed the oils into her hair and her bare clean skin. The bath was rejuvenating. It was big enough for two she noticed. Sansa grinned slightly at her own saucy imagination. 

"Your Grace, is there anything else I can get you before you retire for bed?"

Sansa opened her eyes reluctantly as she prepared to dry herself and put on her robe. Maester Jorrel had a calling in alchemy. The oils had already worked on her and she wished the room and tub would be warm enough to last through the night. She would stay put and sleep in the water. Sansa felt a calm and peace she had never felt before. She predicted the night with a certain broody young man had something to do with it. Sansa turned to her handmaid and shook her head and stepped out of her copper tub. She watched as the young girl take her leave. Sansa laced the robe securely on her waist and walked towards her bed. Sansa sat and ran her hands on the left side of it. It was empty and she was going to sleep by herself tonight. Sansa remembered how his hot skin brushed and stayed close on hers. She had wondered how peculiar it was that Jon's body heat kept at a constant warm temperature despite the chill of winter. He never wore more than one cloak and always wore the one she had made for him recently. Sansa struggled with the cold, being raised in Winterfell didn't make her immune to it. She wished Jon was with her tonight by her side, keeping her warm. 

Tonight could not end like the last, where Jon and her awoke almost before dawn. She had the best sleep that night and didn't wake with anxiety or worry. Everytime she stirred, she felt him around her. She longed to sleep as long as her body would let her in the bed that was gloriously scented with him, and her, their soul essence mixed and intermingled earlier that evening. Jon awoke her gently with kisses on her head and hair and his sinewy arm across her hip, his fingers caressing her and squeezing her flesh softly through her dress. She was roused from her sleep and aroused in her desire for him again. 

"Time to wake my love. They will be looking for you in your bed, wake you and have to get you ready, my sweet girl. Wouldn't be nice for them to find you in mine.. Although you can stay here as long as you wish," Jon nuzzled her neck and smothered her nape with hot kisses that made her want him even more. Sansa smiled as she turned to face him, her eyes slightly open from their sleepiness. Sansa gave Jon a soft kiss and held his head in her hands, her heart full of indescribable emotions she was feeling for this man. He looked even better in bed lying down next to her, his curls falling around his temples and his handsome face. His kind smile shone through his dark eyes as he gazed appreciatively back at her.

"One day, we will, Jon. We will. I promise you we will. I will never want to give my life, my home and my bed to anyone else but you," Sansa caressed his face as she assured him. It was a promise she didn't know if she could ever fulfill but it felt right in her soul to say those words. Even if they died and went to hell, their souls would be bound together. She belonged to him and he belonged to her. The stories she had read about princesses waiting for their princes and knights in shining armour and of falling in love, they had some truth in them perhaps. Jon was her Prince and her Knight. Jon blinked as he held his gaze. Sansa kissed him, albeit painfully, for the last time that night before she pulled away reluctantly from his embrace and slid back into her own bed. And true enough, a few moments shortly, her hand maids were fussing about over her to start her day. 

Sansa laid her head tenderly on her pillow and imagined it to be Jon's warm muscular chest. She blinked at the empty space next to hers again and placed her arms over it, as if imagining they were holding and hugging Jon's waist. She missed him so much, it stung her heart and eyes, as tears formed and ran down a cheek. Her longing was stronger than her guilt, her love was stronger than her shame. Sansa slowly closed her eyes as she willed herself to sleep. 

********  
"Ser Jamie, the Queen calls for you." 

Jamie turned from sharpening his sword to the voice of Maester Qyburn, who was standing solemnly, his eyes not meeting his. Jamie hadn't spoken to Cersei since he returned from The Twins. He had been exhausted and grieving, and it was made worse seeing her on the Throne while dear Tommen was lain in the Sept. Disgust was something he experienced whenever she had done something wrong but more often than not, he was usually a willing accomplice. He wasn't this time. Jamie nodded silently and stopped to place his sword in its sheath. Hand of the King, Maester Qyburn bowed and stepped out of Jamie's way. Jamie admired the old man. He was a genius in many things and in particular advising his Queen sister. Jamie hoped he would be able to trust him. And trust her with him. No more wars or sieges. He wasn't getting any younger and his back ached from sitting too long on his horse. 

"Took you long enough," he heard her say as he stepped into her chambers. Cersei looked at him from the scroll she was reading. 

"Your Grace," Jamie bowed before his sister, uncertain of what else he should say. 

Jamie watched her as she drummed her fingers on her table where she sat, searching his face, trying to read him. Jamie tried his best to conceal his true feelings and address her as formally as he could. He still wanted distance from Cersei. He wasn't ready. Finally she stood up and walked over to where he was. Cersei had something to say. And it was important and private that only both of them should know. He knew her too well. 

"Always nice to see you, dear brother. Tell what news have you of the wretched Twins? And the North?"

Jamie winced a little when he sensed her patronising tone through her friendly eyes seemingly. She was mocking him. She knew the answers to the questions she asked. 

"Riverrun is ours. Edmure Tully has surrendered his lordship and we needn't worry about him any longer. He is more concerned about his family than his honour. And what about the North? Winterfell?"

Cersei's eyes glared at him almost in disgust and apathy. She went back to her table to retrieve the scroll and tossed at him to read. It was a message from Littlefinger. Jamie's stared in disbelief as he read it word for word. The North was a pest before, it was a pest now and it seemed it would be a constant pestilence, a thorn on the side in the coming future.

The King in the North had been chosen by the people. And he had a Queen by the name of Sansa Stark. Sansa. Brienne was right, he really didn't know any girls like Sansa Stark. Bastards like Jon was proof indeed that they could rise high and sit equally with true born sons and daughters of high Lords, like Sansa. It was strange that they would rule together as King and Queen, half brother and sister. With the Northern houses pledging alongside them. He guessed the North did things differently. He was amazed and afraid at the same time when he understood the message. He didn't know why he was afraid, perhaps he would find out soon enough. 

*************  
Sansa opened her eyes to a crackling fire in the fireplace. She looked around her and wondered if the maids came in thinking she needed to be warm. She hadn't call for any of them to come to her chambers late at night. She remembered falling asleep with only a lamp turned on sitting on the bed side table. Sansa stretched her arms and felt them hit someone. Sansa flinched and turned. Jon was beside her and Sansa almost gave a high pitch squeal in glee. Jon stirred in his sleep. Sansa tickled his back to get him to wake as she already was. 

"Jon, did you miss me? I am so happy to find you here."

Jon woke when he heard Sansa whisper in his ears and leapt on top of her. He had not a stitch of clothing on his body. Sansa gasped as she felt his cock inches from her entrance, pressing on her lower abdomen. He was completely naked in his full muscular sinewy glory. Sansa couldn't help but let her eyes feed on the vision that was Jon Snow. Jon ravaged her mouth with his and almost forcefully split her lips with his tongue. Sansa was surprised by his initiative but went along with it, secretly loving the attention he was lavishing on her. 

"I want you. I want to be one with you Sansa Stark. I'll never let you go. Never."

Jon eyes bored into hers as he breathed out the words, his hands deftly unlacing her robe exposing her naked body to him. He held her under his gaze as his hands brushed against her goosebumped skin. She was burning inside and felt a hot flush attacking her cheeks. His eyes never left hers as his hands drifted to her wet heat and explored her folds. Sansa whimpered when she felt his finger in her and moaned as she clenched her fist on the pillow that held her head. She loved Jon's ministrations on her and this time he was in fierce need of her. The urgent and forceful way he took her by surprise was making her wet. Sansa's eyes fluttered open when she felt his erection posited at her entrance and saw Jon intently watching her. 

"Are you mine, sweet girl? Are you ready to be mine?" Jon whispered to her as he stroked the stray hairs away from her face. Sansa gulped and nodded silently, steeling her heart for what was going to happen. It wasn't like what she had planned however. She had often daydreamed how making love to Jon would feel like. He would be gentle and loving as he had shown himself to be with her. Sansa was not one to dream of such things. She was raised prim and proper and imaginings of fornication were in a world she was shielded from indefinitely. 

Jon nipped at her lips and chin, his lips hot as burning coal, searing her skin. Sansa shut her eyes, whimpered when she felt his cock aiming itself at her wet heat and drew in a sharp breath as he moved his pelvis to thrust into her. Jon hissed with his eyes shut, trembling from the pleasure. Sansa watched him and almost reached her peak as he heard him moan as his cock slided into her. 

Just then a gust of wind blew her doors open and Sansa jumped, screaming. Guards entered her chambers accompanied by a lady in a dark gown. 

"You... You have my son, " the lady addressed her calmly, her eyes unblinking. Sansa jumped and seized the furs, sinking into her bed and covered herself in shame. She did not know who this woman was. Though she had Jon's eyes. Sansa looked around her room. It wasn't the Lord's chambers. Jon was no where next to her. Sansa felt a shudder down her spine from a fear she thought he had left her for good. It crept up rapidly as the lady came a few steps nearer. She had Jon's dark eyes but there was something so familiar about her. Sansa couldn't quite put her finger on it. Sansa looked down to avert her stare and then realised she wasn't in bed anymore. It was surreal. She looked around her and upwards towards the sky and her eyes met with a large dome. 

The seven pointed star shaped sky light embraced the hall with its glowing rays of sun light. She was standing in the middle of the Sept. A pang of guilt and shame stabbed through her gut, as if she were awaiting punishment by the gods for what she and Jon had been clandestinely planning. The rays shone brighter and brighter until she could not keep her eyes open. It seemed to surround her and eating her whole. Sansa's shame turned into fear and confusion and she tried to wriggle away from it. Sansa screamed. It was all she could do. 

*******  
"Your Grace! Lady Sansa!"

Sansa eyes flew open but shut again as she was greeted by glaring day light. She felt someone holding her arms and shaking her. 

Sansa opened her eyes gently adjusting to the light and was greeted by Brienne kneeling by her bed accosted by her hand maids looking at her with concern and worry. Sansa felt a damp coolness across her forehead and rubbed her temples. Her fingers were slick with cold sweat. 

Sansa was breathing hard, to a point of hyperventilating. She slowed down and closed her eyes to compose herself. 

"Your Grace, are you all right? We heard you scream."

Sansa heard heavy stomping footsteps coming to her door and saw Jon burst through her already opened door. Jon rushed to her and knelt beside Brienne. 

"Sansa, what happened? Are you all right? "

Sansa felt a calm that helped her find her voice. She nodded and lunged into Jon's arms who caught her embrace and held her tightly. 

"I thought I died," she whispered in a wavering voice. Jon hushed her and she felt his gloved hands gently stroking her hair. He smelled wonderful as always, like leather and damp snow. Sansa smiled at the reference. His skin was always warm, in sharp contrast to his cold cloak and tunic. Sansa quickly noticed that Jon was dressed for an outing. Sansa backed away and looked at Jon. 

"You're still safe here, you're all right, " Jon reassured her, his eyes were full of love yet there were questions. Sansa felt someone else's eyes were on her, specifically both her and Jon. Brienne's eyes darted away as quickly as Sansa knew that she was staring. Brienne couldn't help it. She was concerned for this young lady who had been through so much, perhaps it would soon only take little for Sansa to break down and succumb to her mental anguish she had suffered. Trauma was clearly an understatement. Returning home would prove to be as traumatic as running away from one. 

Travel fatigued and in need of her own rest, Brienne quickly stepped away from both of them and out the door with the maids, shutting it behind them. She understood clearly that perhaps the siblings needed some privacy. She allowed Jon to take over. Like Sansa had once told her, she trusted Jon. For some reason, Jon seemed to have a soothing effect on Sansa. As soon as she realised it, Brienne felt awkward while watching their exchange, as if she were privy to a lovers' meeting. There was no mistake in how Sansa had looked at Jon and how Jon held Sansa. Brienne may be a maiden but she was no fool. A lady no matter her position still very much owned a lady's intuition. These years of dealing with the Starks, Lannisters, the Northern Houses, the various noble Lords, taught her one thing. Keep her silence and do as she was commanded. It was not her place to judge or make assumptions. All she wanted was Sansa Stark safe and happy. And if it took an unsavoury turn of events for it to happen, then so be it. Her oath to Lady Catelyn Stark would be fulfilled. The younger Lady Stark deserved as much happiness as any young high born lady or anyone for that matter. And in whatever form it came in, was of little consequence or concern. 

Jon sat on the bed, not letting go of her arms still grabbing hold tightly of his. Sansa looked away and Jon saw a tear drop onto the bedlinen. Jon dabbed away at her cheeks. 

"I don't know what I would do without you, Jon. If they take me away from you," Sansa tried her best to keep herself together but sobbed through her words. 

"No one will take me away from you, not from here, not where we are right now, sweet girl." Sansa felt his warm hands now on her face. Sansa closed her eyes as she surrendered to his touch. More tears fell and made a large wet spot on her covers. 

"Somebody was here. They had come in and.. And they saw us Jon. You and me laying here... Doing things," Sansa didn't want to continue and hoped that Jon understood what she was trying to say. Jon squeezed her arms tightly again and embraced her, this time peppering her neck and face with kisses. His lips brushed against hers and Sansa caught them, trapping with her own. Jon's tongue meekly darted out for hers and he tasted of berries and ale. Sansa loved it, grabbing his cloak by the collar and pulling him down with her to lay back on the bed. It was Jon who paused and stopped them from going any further, seeing that it was a day where he had somewhere to go and things to do. With Sansa no less. As much as he ached to do things with her, Jon could only imagine what they were and felt his loins stir, there were pressing matters that needed attention. Now that he had heard of news of Lord Edmure Tully surrendering to pledge fealty to the Lannisters. He wished to speak to his uncle and understand why he was siding with the enemy. He would have time during the dark nights to keep Sansa company, he needed her as much as she wanted him. He wished he could show her how much. 

"Sansa, I am riding for Riverrun and pay Uncle Edmure a visit. I've had news that he has returned. Come with me, perhaps he will hear reason with both us there present," Jon suggested, his eyes gazing into hers while his fingers played with the ends of her hair. They were still laying on the bed, with Jon on top of her. Sansa took his hands into hers and looked at Jon almost pleadingly. 

"Jon, no. We shouldn't. I know he was captured on his wedding day. He and his wife. Lord Tyrion told me. When I heard news of Robb and Mother. They held him hostage at the Twins, Jon. His return to Riverrun is not one that was his own. It won't be a friendly welcome, you will be hurt Jon I know it."

Jon winced and felt his knuckles tense up as he recalled the Red Wedding. The Freys would be next on his list after the White Walkers, if he was still alive and standing then. They had to pay with their blood for what they did to Robb and Lady Stark. They were the ones behind the wretched wedding. But Jon needed to see it for himself. At least speak to Edmure. He needed more men. He wanted to give the White Walkers a proper fight no matter what. For that he needed more men, more houses to join the cause. Sansa watched Jon think, his forehead creasing adorably that Sansa couldn't resist smiling. 

"Send a raven, Jon. Let him know who has Winterfell now. And our banner men. Tell him he is welcome to visit us and we shall speak to him then. If he indeed is on our side, he will come to us and he will mean no harm. If he doesn't, we'll then we know why. Better here with our men with us than you there with Davos. Don't leave me here Jon. Not now."

Jon sighed. His heart broke a little every time Sansa's voice became small and pleaded with him. The fear in her shaking voice was unmistakable. Though a strong, confident woman now, the Sansa who was captured and held hostage years ago was somehow still lingering. Whoever did what they did to her would pay soon enough. 

"All right, sweet girl. What shall we do today then? Let's get you ready and have something to eat, at least you'll feel better," Jon relented, stroking her hair adoringly. Sansa sat up in bed and looked out the window. It was bright and early, though later than when she would normally wake. Sansa decided to catch up on her reading and attend council meetings with Jon if there were any that day. Sansa then remembered the dream she had moments ago. A stop at the Godswoods was necessary. 

*********  
“Something has to be done about the North. Don't you agree Master Qyburn?" 

Cersei spoke but Jamie felt her eyes staring at him. 

"Your Grace, the North is vast and wild. We may not have enough men to do anything that is needed. All we can do is fortify the capital grounds, Your Grace," Maester Qyburn advised. The impact of the blast had killed several thousand people including the Gold Cloaks. He had been careless in Cersei's demand and pursuit of meting out justice to the Faith Militant. Not only was the city and the Sept ruined, Cersei had now formed formidable enemies in the form of Olenna Tyrell. And Maester Qyburn was well aware the Tyrell matriarch was a worthy adversary. He had fear in his heart, he may not be the Hand or a Maester for too long. 

"What happens in the North is none of our business, Cersei. We have no news that they will be marching down south now do we? Whoever has the North, perhaps best we leave them alone. I could use some peace and quiet for now, dear sister," Jamie objected, suddenly tired of all the talk of war. Perhaps it was time to make peace instead of war. 

"Maester Qyburn, leave us."

Jamie watched as the old man obediently bowed and closed the door behind him. Jamie turned to Cersei who was pacing towards him, her green eyes shining with fury and disdain. 

"What happened to you little brother? Isn't our kingdom worth protecting? Too much for you? I thought you loved being the one prancing about in shining armour. Did someone slice your balls off?" she demanded, her scornful tone pierced through him like a hot spear. 

"Cersei-"

"You will address me as Your Grace."

"Your Grace, nothing happened and no my balls are still intact. Perhaps we should leave the Starks alone. If they come marching we will fight them. If not, leave them be. You heard the Maester, we do not have the men nor the gold to start another war. Besides, Edmure Tully won't defend them. We have house Tully in our hands. We will use them to hold the Starks down, if need be," Jamie tried to reason. It sounded quite good in his head. He hoped Cersei would see it too. 

"The Starks, Lady Sansa who ran after Tyrion murdered my son. Our son! And that bastard Jon Snow. Now both of them ruling the North. And all other houses of the North pledging for them, house Tully means nothing to me! I will start whatever I want and whenever needs be, mark my words, brother. I will not rest until every Stark is dead, base born or otherwise."

Her menacing tone sent shivers down his spine. He had heard that Jon was an able commander and and even better swordsman. Now he hoped the poor boy would be an even better king, to protect Winterfell from Cersei's merciless wrath and vengeance. 

***********

Sansa sat on the large root of the weirwood tree. She shut her eyes, trying to keep out the visions of the dream she had in her mind. She had prayed to the Mother, and the Warrior for Jon and the men who pledged themselves to fight alongside House Stark, she had prayed to the Smith. But most of all she called out to the Crone, to give her wisdom and light to guide her in the treacherous path Jon and her were heading into. The absence of guilt made it difficult for her. However, the shame was proving too much to bear. Sansa felt a tear roll down her cheek. She just wanted to be happy. Jon was the one person who gave her such happiness. And she wanted her family back. For Arya and Bran to return. Sansa prayed for Arya and for Bran, wherever they were to grant them wisdom and light their way home. 

"Sansa!" she heard Jon yelling out her name frantically. Sansa jerked up on her feet and turned to see Jon leap off his horse, running towards her. He held a scroll in his hand. 

"What is it, Jon? What happened?"

"It's Bran! Bran sent a Raven from Castle Black! He's alive Sansa! Gods, he's alive!" Jon held her by the arms and almost shook her vigorously in his excitement. Jon felt his legs weaken and knelt down, it was all he wanted to hear. 

A true born Stark, a Lord of Winterfell - House Stark was indeed not dead for its line would not be so easily broken. More importantly, his beloved brother was well and alive. He hung his head and broke down in tears. Tears of joy, Sansa was sure as she cried too. She held Jon as tightly as she could as they sobbed. She turned towards the weirwood tree with its carved eyes seemingly staring right back at her and Jon. 

The Gods heard us, they know, Sansa thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Jonsa: They are my OTP because they don't realise it that they are meant for each other. S6 was the best because of the generous Jonsa moments and key events that make this show awesome. First time fic for me and unbeta-ed so any mistakes apologies! So if you like it, leave comments or kudos! Thanks for reading! xx


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